


That Which I Desire, Destroys Me in the End

by galinda



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anorexia, Eating Disorders, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galinda/pseuds/galinda
Summary: Lance McClain is admitted to Altea, a nationally renowned mental hospital run by the ever so quirky Allura, who has a different means of helping her patients. Along the way, he meets a group of people who he teaches what life is again, and maybe, he even finds it in himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warning for suicidal themes. not super graphic, but there.
> 
> thank you to ARI for beta reading!

He really hadn’t meant for it to end up this way.

Sure, he assumed that someone would find him eventually. Maybe his barely-around roommate, or the RA, or one of the many people who were pissed at him for not paying them back. He wasn’t expecting his mother to plan a surprise visit and suddenly show up. Well, he should have, considering he hadn’t returned any of her calls in two months, and hadn’t gone home since Christmas, and it was almost March.

But it was just his luck that she had decided to show up that day. Had it been the day before, everything would have been fine. They would have gotten lunch at the diner down the street, and Lance would have complained about all the school work he still hasn’t done. He wouldn’t have mentioned he hadn’t been to class in three weeks. She’d comment on how proud she was of him, and that he had to come home soon so she could cook for him.

Of course, nothing in life could go his way. Instead, Lance’s mother had come on the same day that he looked at himself in the mirror, and swallowed a whole bottle of whatever sleeping pills his roommate uses before grabbing the razors he hid in his dresser. Instead, Lance’s mother had walked up the stairs of the dorm singing to herself, just in time to open the door and find her son face down on the floor. Instead, Lance’s mother had come in and screamed at the site of the blood stained carpet, loud enough for the RA to run down the hallway and call the police.

So, instead of following through with his plan of fading away on the dingy, weed-scented carpet of his dorm room, Lance found himself sitting on a couch with his parents in front of a woman in a suit, going on and on about some sort of treatment he didn’t think he needed. The bandages are still wrapped around his wrists, and he can’t stop picking at them, wishing they weren’t there. That he wasn’t there.

“Here at Altea, we believe in efficient care, at a pace tailored to the patient. Some are ready in weeks, for some, years. Either way, we will do all we can to make sure your son gets beats this.” Her accent annoys him. It makes everything seem fake, like he’s in some sort of film, and any second now, the camera’s going to stop rolling and he’ll be back on the carpet, bleeding out like he was supposed to.

“Whatever it takes, please, as long as our boy is back to who he is supposed to be,” Lance’s father says, pulling his arm tighter around his mother. She hasn’t spoken a word since they arrived, too occupied with the tears streaming down her face. Lance hadn’t seen them like this since his Abuela passed, but she actually died, so he didn’t see the big deal.

“Of course, Mr. McClain. Lance is in the right hands. We’ll start right away with getting an understanding of the surface of his problem. It takes more than just a few questions to get a diagnosis, so please bear with me as I speak to Lance alone.” Hesitantly, Lance’s parents make their way out, but not before his mother pulls him in for a hug so tight he can hardly breath.

“Okay,” the therapist starts, repositioning herself in her chair. “For starters, no need to call me by anything special, just Allura is fine,” she says, placing her clipboard on the table in between them. “I want you to understand that being here doesn’t make you any less in control of your life, or different from the outside world. We’re just helping you get better, so you can function better in it.”

Lance stares at her for a moment, analyzing how her silver hair comes to rest down her back, contrasting with the purple suit. “There’s nothing _wrong_ with me,” he mutters, suddenly feeling very small in the large office.

Allura gives him a sympathetic look, as if she understands, when he knows she doesn’t. “Lance, we both know if that was true, you wouldn’t be sitting in here right now. Why don’t we start with discussing how you felt the day of your… attempt.” He hated that word. Attempt. Because he knew it meant unfinished. “Do you remember what it felt like to wake up that day? What you were thinking before it happened?”

Lance sighs, peeling the end of one of his bandages on and off again. “I don’t know. I remember making my bed, which I usually don’t do. Everything just felt so… dirty, so I cleaned the room. I was throwing away empty bottles from the medicine cabinet when… when I found the full bottle. It just seemed almost… too easy. After that, everything’s a blur.” He doesn’t mention how his mother’s screams have been in his nightmares every night since.

“I see,” Allura continues. “Now… Lance, in the past, have you ever found yourself seeming… to feel different at times? Maybe one day, you don’t want to leave your bed, and the next, you keep busy?”

“I don’t know,” he says, although he doesn’t think too hard about it. “I haven’t gotten the urge to go to class in a while. My teachers don’t really seem to care, though. I guess failing a class doesn’t leave a good impression.”

Allura continues asking questions, varying from Lance’s social life to the nature of most of his dreams. Once she calls his parents back in, his mother’s tears are dry. Although she sits right next to him again, their legs touching, he can’t help but feel like they’re miles away. As he thinks about it, he can’t remember a time recently where he felt like he could talk to her. Maybe that’s why he ended up here.

“Okay, Mr. and Mrs. McClain, we just want to be sure that we’re all on the same page here before we let you go. It will take time to determine a specific diagnosis, but it is evident that at the very least, Lance has been depressed for some time.” Allura says, and his mother practically throws herself to the floor. Lance zones out for the rest of the conversation, briefly hugging his parents before they are escorted out by Allura and he’s left alone in the room for a few minutes.

“You must be Lance!” A man’s voice comes from the doorway. He looks up to see a tall man with bright orange hair, with a matching mustache. “I’m Coran, and I’ll be showing you around our facility. Shall we get started?” Lance hesitantly gets up to follow the man. He’s unsure of who he is, but he has a name tag, so he guesses he’s safe with him.

They come up to a small area with a TV and gaming system, nearly empty aside from two patients browsing channels, and another man dressed in the same outfit as Coran. He stares at them briefly before smiling. Lance doesn’t wave back. “This here is our recreation area, where you have access to a variety of games and activities to pass the time when you aren’t in group or eating. Thace, why don’t you come this way and introduce yourself to our newest patient.” The orderly gets up and walks over, the smile not leaving his face. “This is Lance, he’ll be staying with us for now.”

The orderly puts a hand out to shake Lance’s, who doesn’t respond. Looking down, he notices the bandages around his wrists, and quickly takes his hand away. “Welcome to Altea, if you have any questions about anything, feel free to contact me. I usually run game night, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

Lance nods, keeping it in mind, and follows Coran out to the hallway again. They come to a stop in front of the cafeteria, where there are tables full of people quietly chatting, all eating a similar meal. “Well, looks like we arrived just in time for lunch,” Coran says. He motions Lance to follow him forward, and they stop in front of an array of trays stacked on each other. A broad, tan man is washing them behind the counter. “Hunk, I have a new patient I’d like you to meet.”

The man turns his head, a surprised look on his face. “Oh, hey, Coran. Sorry, you caught me a little off guard here, with the dishes. I’m Hunk, I cook everything you guys eat while you’re staying here.” He smiles. “I’ve gotten pretty good reviews so far, so hopefully you’ll enjoy it too.” Lance nods, and the man turns back to his work.

Coran starts leading Lance out of the cafeteria, bypassing a table seating a few people. One of them, a guy in a large hoodie with a mop of dark hair, stands up quickly, his chair coming out right in front of Lance. He nearly walks into it, but catches himself just in time. “Shiro, I already told you, I’m not lying, for fucks sake. I ate the fucking bread roll, okay? I don’t need you on my back along with-“ the man stops himself as soon as he sees Lance and Coran watching him.

“Mr. Kogane, I hope there isn’t a problem here,” Coran says. “I would hate to bring Allura into this, after what happened last week.” His demeanor completely changes, going from an upbeat tour guide, to an actually threatening employee.

The man sits down again, pushing his empty tray to the middle of the table. “Sorry, everything’s fine.”

“That’s what I thought,” Coran says, before continuing their trip out of the room. Lance feels the man, Mr. Kogane’s, eyes on his back.

They finish the tour out in the garden, which is covered in flowers all kept up by the patients. It’s nice, Lance thinks, and maybe he wouldn’t mind spending time there. He supposes that wasting away in a flowerbed would be much better than the dingy carpet. “Does this place really work?” Lance asks, quiet.

Coran flattens out his mustache with one hand, looking out to the large rose bushes that cover the view of the road. “Well, yes. We’ve had many patients come and go, and while not everything ends up as planned, Allura is very satisfied with her practice. These plants are all signs of life, and the fact that their kept up by patients says a lot. Lance, you shouldn’t worry, I know that you’ll get out of here happy with yourself. Now, how about I introduce you to your roommate?”

By the time they get to the room Lance will be staying in, the music can be heard from down the hallway. Coran opens the door, and it blasts them in the face. Lance doesn’t recognize it, but it’s drum heavy, and on full volume. The same guy from the cafeteria is laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. He glances over at Coran and Lance, and rolls his eyes. Angrily, he pulls himself up and turns the volume down low enough that Lance can hear himself think again.

“Let me guess, you’re sticking another newbie with me because I’m such a model patient?” He says, but Coran ignores the sass and points out Lance’s luggage to him.

“I’ll see you both at dinner in a few hours. Keith, why don’t you give Lance the run down on the schedule here?” Coran smiles at Lance before turning around and leaving, shutting the door behind him gently.

Lance sighs and stares at the door for a moment before turning to his stuff. He knows he’s supposed to unpack it, but it all seems like too much. The unmade mattress seems much more doable for the moment. He collapses on it, the springs creaking under him. The song changes and fades into another one, the beat even faster than before.

“So, what’s wrong with you?” Lance hears Mr. Kogane, or Keith, say from the floor. He sits up, and makes eye contact with his fellow patient, but doesn’t respond. “You aren’t here because everything’s perfect in your life. There’s something wrong, so you got sent here. What’s wrong with you?”

With a sigh, Lance falls back into the mattress. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know. I guess maybe it’s not perfectly normal to try to kill yourself in your dorm room?” Keith’s silent on the floor for a moment. “You said you’re the perfect patient. So, what’s wrong with you?” Lance asks in return, already feeling the urge to sleep.

“Obesity,” Keith says, before turning the music back up.

 

Lance is woken up by bickering. He opens his eyes to see Keith crossing his arms at a smaller person, with bright hair and shining glasses. “I don’t know Keith, Shiro’s still pretty upset with you about lying to Allura.”

“Keep it quiet Pidge,” Keith argues. “One-hundred and eight calories isn’t that big of a deal, anyway. Not like how you started to freak out because one of your apple slices wasn’t cut right.”

“Hey, I calmed myself down didn’t I?”

“Yeah, after screaming at Hunk about it. You’re lucky he puts up with you the way he does. The last chef quit because of-“ Keith stops himself when he notices Lance sitting up. The two patients stare at him for a moment.

“You must be the roommate,” the shorter one, who Lance assumes is Pidge, says. “Keith’s been complaining nonstop about you.” Lance raises an eyebrow, and swings his feet over to the floor. “It’s not your fault. He just doesn’t ‘do’ roommates.”

Keith huffs. “Whatever. Pidge, this is Lance. I’m supposed to catch him up on the schedule, but that seems like more your thing.” At this statement, Pidge smiles. Keith turns around and walks over to the other side of the room, where he starts doing lunges.

Pidge claps their hands together in excitement, and Lance notices rubber gloves over them. “Every morning at exactly 6 am, the timers on the lights in the hallway turns them on, indicating that it’s nearing time to get up. Then, from 8 to 9 am, there’s breakfast served in the cafeteria, and everyone goes to eat at the same time. The food is in a cycle. Tomorrow’s Thursday, so it will be fruit and French toast. Then, depending on your own schedule, there’s individual therapy sessions with Allura. You’re new, so you’ll probably have one. It’s listed on the board outside the recreation room. After that-“ They’re interrupted by a quiet alarm that comes from the hallway. “It’s 6 o’clock, meaning it’s dinner time. After that, from 7 to 8:30, is group therapy.”

“It’s irrational,” Keith says, straightening out his clothing. “They encourage you to reclaim control of your life, yet everything is on their time.”

“Well, maybe if there wasn’t schedules,  _some_  people wouldn’t be getting better,” Pidge says. They motion for Lance to follow, and he does, albeit skeptically. Keith gives them an angry look, and the three make their way to the cafeteria in silence.

By the time they get there, a short line has formed where Hunk hands out meals. Some have names attached to them, but they all have the same thing. In line, Pidge picks up a conversation with someone in front of them. Ahead of Lance, Keith grumbles and grabs a tray with his name on it from among the others. Lance doesn’t see one with his, so he just grabs one of the many.

Looking around, Lance sees that the tables are mostly full. Keith, Pidge, and a third person who Lance recognizes from the tour, all sit together. Hesitantly, he goes up to the fourth seat. “Is it okay if I…” he starts to ask. The trio look at him, but Pidge smiles and nods.

He isn’t expecting it when the person Pidge was talking to in line holds out a metal hand for him to shake. “You must be new here. My name is Shiro,” he says. Lance shakes his hand, the cold metal feeling foreign.

It’s silent for a minute, and Lance watches as Pidge grabs two bites of pasta, and puts them next to each other on their tongue. They hold their gloved fingers out, and count to twenty-four, before swallowing. Confused, Lance nearly forgets his own food is in front of him. Pidge taps their fork on the tray four times, before repeating the process.

“Uh…” He starts, wanting to ask about it, but not knowing how. It didn’t seem weird when Keith asked him about his issues earlier, but he doesn’t know what the common rule is.

Pidge looks up at him, reaching twenty-four, before swallowing. “Oh, sorry if it seems kind of weird, uh… I have OCD, so I have a routine I like to follow when eating. But believe me, it’s not the weirdest way to eat in this place.” They look at Keith, who’s been eyeing a chunk of meatball since they sat down.

“I guess I should return the favor, huh?” Lance says, before taking a bite of the pasta. It melts in his mouth, and he nearly groans at the flavor. Whoever this Hunk guy is, he shouldn’t just be cooking in a place for crazy people.

“I already told them,” Keith interrupts, gesturing with the meatball. “You tried to end it. Big whoop.” The meatball moves with his hand, pointing at Lance, who narrows his eyebrows in anger.

“Hey, I didn’t say you could-“

“Ignore him,” Shiro cuts in, his gaze meeting Lance’s from across the table. “He doesn’t mean it; he’s just trying to distract us from the fact that he hasn’t touched anything on his tray.” With this statement, Shiro moves his head to glare at Keith.

“You’re not Allura, you know,” Keith mutters, before taking a bite of the meatball.

“That being said, there must be a reason. Have they diagnosed you yet?” Shiro says, looking back to Lance.

With a shrug, Lance picks up another bite. “I don’t know much about it, she just took some notes this morning.”

“You should trust Allura, many of us have gone far with her help,” Shiro says, his eyes drifting to Keith. Lance follows, and watches as he smashes his meatballs into a mush mixed with the pasta. Hearing Shiro sigh, he takes a bite of the meat.

Next to Lance, slowly, Pidge pushes their tray forward, completely clear, with a precisely folded napkin in the center. “So, back to what I was saying before,” Pidge says, “There is a very distinct schedule here that we all follow.” The rest of the meal time is spent with Pidge explaining the rundown to Lance, as Shiro and Keith occasionally share words regarding the way Keith smashes his food. Just as Lance is getting up to put his tray away, Coran comes over, giving Keith’s tray a stern look, before announcing group therapy.

 

The room is mostly plain, with an array of chairs placed in a circle. At the top sits Allura, a clipboard in her hand, smiling as everyone comes in. The chairs are easy to fill up, and Lance quickly sits in one next to Shiro. He notices how Pidge sits adjacent, tapping the chair four times before sitting down. Keith also separates himself, sitting next to a girl, and they start into a quick, quiet conversation.

“Alright everybody, how was dinner?” Allura starts, earning responses from praise to complaining. “Today’s discussion is about what it means to block people out, why we do it, and what we can do to help. Then, we will do a behavioral exercise, just in time for the evening to come to an end.” Lance notices that some of the patients seem distant, not paying attention at all to Allura, while some are practically on the edge of their seats. “All of you, at some point while struggling with your illness, have pushed the people around you away. Perhaps it was to protect them, or protect yourself. Does anyone have anything they want to share?”

After a moment of silence, the person sitting next to Keith pipes up. “When I was at my lowest weight, I was afraid that people around me would try to help me, and that they would make me gain, so I stopped responding to their messages and continued focusing on myself. I look back and regret it now, because I could have gotten help sooner. But at the time, it seemed like I was doing them a favor.”

“Exactly, Plaxum, when you’re struggling with an illness, a neuro-typical life seems too far out of reach. It becomes a fear, because you may feel like your disorder defines you, when in reality, it’s holding you back.” Allura says, before quickly scribbling something on her clipboard. “Why don’t we hear something from our newest member, Lance?” He looks up quickly, surprised. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you have something to say, I’d love to hear it.”

“Uh,” Lance starts, the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him boring into his skin. “I don’t know… do you think it’s maybe, uh, a little a selfish to push people away? They have the right to know that you’re sick.”

“Like your family was expecting you to slit your wrists?” Keith says, from across the room. Lance feels his chest tighten, and suddenly everyone’s eyes feel like spikes to his skin.

Next to him, Lance feels Shiro tense, but he says nothing. “Keith,” Allura’s voice sounds distant, like she’s underwater. “I believe what Lance is saying, is that the reason we may push others away is for our own sake, which is why it could be selfish. Similar to how your jab at him has resulted in the same way.” Keith blushes, and sinks back into his chair, crossing his arms.

“Don’t worry about anything he says,” Shiro mutters to Lance, “He’s just had a rough week, and it’s his instinct to lash out.” Lance nods, although he cannot get Keith’s words out of his head for the rest of the session.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw suicidal thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much ARI !!!!

Meeting with Allura that morning seemed like lifetimes ago as Lance finally finished setting up his sheets, and laid down on the creaky mattress. Keith had only returned from group therapy minutes ago, after Allura pulled him to the side as everyone was leaving. It felt weird to have to set up his things. Once he placed the framed photo of him and his sisters on the nightstand, it sunk in that this was real. Lance was actually in a mental institution because he couldn’t function like a normal human being.

Oh, how sad it was.

“Hey,” Keith’s voice startles Lance out of his thoughts, from the bed on the other side of the room. He’s not under the blankets, instead just laying down on top them, and in the faint moon light Lance can see the strong outline of his collarbones in his shadow. “Look, I wouldn’t normally tell you anything, but since I kind of owe you an apology, I guess I might as well share. According to Allura I apparently try to put other people into conversation when I… want to hide my problems. I’ve had a pretty bad week, and used you to lash out. I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet in the room for a minute as Lance processes Keith’s words. He covers his eyes with his hands and sighs. “Whatever. It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” He rolls over onto his side, facing away from the other boy. As much as he wanted to, sleep was too far from his reach. All he could think about was how his mother screamed for help when she opened the door.

Keith groans from his bed. “I’m trying to apologize; you could at least show some forgiveness.” Lance turns his head and sees Keith crossing his arms out of the corner of his eye. “Allura even yelled at me for the second time this week. And you don’t want her to do that.”

“I forgive you, now can I get some sleep?” He wouldn’t, but he at least wanted to quietly fall victim to his thoughts. Keith doesn’t respond, and Lance waits until he just hears soft breathing before shutting his eyes.

 

It feels as though he’s just closed his eyes when there’s a knock on the door, and Coran is poking his head in. Keith’s already up, pulling a red hoodie over his head. It takes Lance a second to realize what’s happening, and Coran is already half way through whatever he was saying.

“-and Allura is oh so excited, as she is with all new patients. Because the sooner we can diagnose you, the sooner we can start helping you. So up and at ‘em, then.”

Coran puts a hand out for Lance to grab, but he ignores it and pulls himself up. “What are you going on about?” He asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Therapy,” Keith blatantly says as he rolls up his sleeves. “Today’s the day Allura’s prodding you to figure out how fucked up you are. Hey, maybe you’ll beat me.” He swiftly walks toward the door, but is stopped by Coran blocking it.

“Not so fast Mr. Kogane, we aren’t going to have a repeat of last week are we? I still expect you to be at breakfast in an hour.”

“Not everything I do is to spite you and Allura,” Keith says, his arms crossed. “I’m checking on my tomatoes.” Coran steps aside and lets him through.

Lance waits until Keith’s footsteps can’t be heard until he speaks, combing his fingers through his hair. “Everyone keeps mentioning some big thing that Keith… did. What is it, anyway?” They start to walk down the quiet hallway, still over an hour to breakfast. Lance figures that most people in a facility aren’t thrilled to wake up every day.

“I’m afraid that’s something Keith will have to share with you,” Coran says, putting his hands behind his back. “I can say, though, that he is on his last strike. One more misdemeanor, and he’ll be sent to one of our partner buildings, and they aren’t so forgiving. It’s just our policy.” They walk down the hallway to Allura’s office, the windows opening out to the garden. Lance glances out and sees Keith, crouched over a small garden, watering can in his hand. He seems so peaceful, it’s hard to believe he’s the same guy that threw Lance under the bus the night before.

“I mean, how much do you have to act up to get kicked out of a place that’s supposed to help you?” Lance asks.

Coran strokes his mustache for a moment, in thought. “As it becomes increasingly harder to help someone, it becomes apparent that you may not be the one to help them. It doesn’t matter how much we try to help, if someone doesn’t want help, they won’t get it. For the most part those patients, who acted similar to Keith, have either been relocated, or have dropped out altogether. We’re just hoping that if a relocation needs to happen, Keith won’t quit the program.”

When they arrive, Allura is already waiting for them, two cups of coffee in her hand. “I hope you don’t mind creamer and sugar, I got a little bored waiting for you.” Lance shrugs and takes the coffee, following her into the familiar room. The sun is just shining above the horizon, the orange sky reminding Lance of getting his house chores done as a child. “So, Lance, yesterday was a good beginning to a lengthy process. For now, I’d just like to get to know you, if that’s okay.”

Lance sits on the edge of the couch, leaning forward to sip his coffee. “I mean, I guess,” he says. “But I’m not that interesting.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find something to talk about. You’re in school, what have you been studying?”

“I’ve been undeclared for two years and haven’t gone to class since January. I wouldn’t really call it studying.” The coffee burns going down his throat, but he chugs it anyway.

“Your mother told me you’re the first of your family to go to college, do you not consider that an accomplishment?”

It’s quiet for a moment while Lance deliberates. He downs the rest of the coffee before responding. “Not really. I mean, most immigrant families always have some kind of golden child. The one who makes it past the bodega. And they become something important, like a lawyer, or doctor. Sure, there has to be a scholarship, and the family busts ass for them, but that’s what makes people proud. That’s an accomplishment. No one’s proud of some kid who manages to barely get into a state school with a C average and pot problem.”

Allura looks down at the empty mug, before jotting something down on her clipboard. “Many people are unsure of what they want to do with their lives at your age. When I was twenty I wanted to be a graphic designer. Then I found my passion, and went into health. It takes time to discover who you are.”

Lance taps his finger on the mug, wishing so badly that it would explode, and that this would all be over. “You don’t get it,” he starts, making eye contact with Allura. “There’s nothing more for me to discover. I don’t have a hidden passion, or sense of self that wasn’t there before. This is it. All I have is just… this shitty life that I didn’t ask to be brought into.”

After writing something else down on her clipboard, Allura gestures to the door. “This should be enough for now… Why don’t you go to breakfast early? I’m sure Hunk wouldn’t mind the trouble.”

With a sigh, Lance gets up and leaves the room, having left the empty mug on the coffee table. He looks out the windows in the hallway to see if Keith is still out there, but only sees the wind slightly blowing the leaves of the plants. At the end of the hallway, he nearly walks into a tall man in a suit, who gives Lance a dirty look before walking toward Allura’s office.

Hunk’s just setting out the specific trays when Lance arrives. He’s noticed immediately, but welcomed in with a wide smile. “Lance, right? How was your first day?” He receives a shrug, but Lance comes up to the counter anyway.

“Allura sent me here early, since my session wasn’t quite what she planned, I guess.” He rests his finger tips on the counter, tapping his pointer finger.

“Well, if you want, there’s still some dishes that I need to get done. It’ll at least pass the time,” Hunk says, holding out a rag. “I’ll wash, you dry?” Lance shrugs and grabs the rag, picking up one of the recently washed pots. “Not to pry, but, you just had your first individual therapy session right? How did it go?”

Watching as the rag soaks up the droplets of water off the pan, Lance just simply says “Fine.” Hunk nods, and washes down a spatula with the water. Once the water is off again, Lance continues. “I don’t know. I’ve never had to talk to someone before, so I’m not really sure what it’s supposed to do.”

Hunk hands Lance the spatula, and goes on to scrubbing another pan. “Well, I can’t really tell you what it should or shouldn’t feel like, since I’ve never had to go to therapy. You could ask Shiro, he’s been here for about two years?” Lance raises his eyebrows at the length. He was ready to be done after just one day, he couldn’t imagine being there for so long.

Lance goes on to drying the newest pan, looking at his distorted image in the reflection. “She just doesn’t seem to understand me. Even though it’s only been two sessions, it just seems like she’s only focused on what’s wrong with me. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me. I don’t want there to be something wrong with me.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve only been here for about eight months, and I’ve already seen over a dozen people come and go. You’ll be okay.” Hunk smiles, and rinses off the last pan. Just as Lance opens his mouth to respond, a few people walk in. He shuts his mouth quickly, and watches as they grab trays and use the tongs to grab the food. There’s still a few trays already made, including Pidge’s specifically cut food, and similar looking trays for Keith and Plaxum.

“Thanks, I guess,” Lance says, staring down at the tray of scrambled eggs as someone piles some on their plate.

“I know it’s kind of a downer to talk about,” Hunk says. “Look, if you ever feel like Allura, or Coran, or whoever are getting to be too much, you can come down here. We don’t have to talk about anything serious, we can just watch little cat videos.”

Lance finishes drying the last pan, and smiles. “I’ll be around before dinner,” He says, and walks around the counter to grab his own tray just as Pidge grabs theirs.

“Hey, Lance,” They start as they walk to the same table from yesterday. Pidge knocks four times on the table before sitting down. “How was your first night? Did you get any sleep?”

With a sigh, Lance digs into the eggs. “Maybe, like, an hour?”

“Most than I did my first night,” Pidge says before carefully selecting two bites of fruit. “I couldn’t get over a stain on the ceiling. They had to replace the whole tile.” Lance laughs as Pidge puts the two bites in their mouth and starts counting their bites.

“Good morning Lance,” Shiro says as he sits down across from Pidge. Lance nods his head in acknowledgement, wishing he could ask about the length of his stay. It seemed like it was fair to ask about Pidge’s illness, since it is so visually obvious. Although Keith had avoided saying it explicitly, it was still obvious what he struggled with. “How was your first session?”

“I doubt Allura has made any revelations about me, other than the extent of my academic failures. How has your morning been?” Lance shoves a large chunk of buttered toast into his mouth, and starts chewing, as an excuse to not answer any questions for a few minutes.

“It seems like that at first,” Shiro says. “My first session started out slow, and by the end I broke three coffee mugs against the wall. She had to call Thace and Coran to escort me back to my room. I haven’t had a violent outbreak recently, though. I’m proof that her methods work, so don’t be so hard on yourself.”

 “Your session sounds easy compared to my first. I spent an hour rearranging everything in her office while she asked me questions about my home life. You should have seen the look on her face when I pulled two rulers out of my pockets,” Pidge says with a little laugh.

“It’s not a competition to see who’s the sickest,” Keith mutters, cutting his toast into small pieces. Shiro and Pidge agree, nodding their head. After a moment, Keith adds on, “I dumped the coffee she gave me onto the floor because there was sugar in.” He laughs, just for a few seconds, before realizing no one else was.

The group eats in silence for a few minutes, until Pidge pushes their tray forward and reaches into their pocket, pulling out a phone. It’s on silent, but the screen is lit up with a photo of someone. “Wait, they told me you couldn’t have cell phones in here,” Lance says, confused.

“If you’re stable enough you can get one without internet,” Keith says, placing a small bite of egg white into his mouth. “Since visiting time is so rare.” Lance frowns, and remembers he still has an information packet somewhere with his stuff he needs to look at.

“I know, I already complained to Allura but she still won’t let me,” Pidge says into the phone, their demeanor suddenly changed. “You know how badly I want to go, Matt. But she doesn’t think I’m ready to go anywhere yet.” Shiro’s head pops up at the mention of whoever Pidge was talking to, Lance notices. Keith smirks, and goes back to staring down his tray, seemingly in hopes that it will disappear. “I hate it too. But don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. Yesterday I opened a door without even wiping my feet four times!”

As Pidge’s conversation continues, Lance turns his head to see Keith shove a handful of eggs down his pants. “What the fu-“ He starts, but Keith’s glare shuts him up. Shiro hasn’t noticed, too busy listening to Keith’s conversation. Keith raises an eyebrow at Lance, but doesn’t say anything. While Pidge wraps up the conversation, he finishes his food.

“Matt’s graduating from college in two weeks, and Allura won’t give me the two freaking days it’ll take for me to go see him. I know I still have a lot of issues, but two days isn’t even that long.” They put their head in their hands.

“She’s too controlling,” Keith mutters, pushing his nearly empty tray forward. “And that’s coming from an anorexic. Allura tries to act like she’s so great, and like everyone is doing so well, but that’s just a mask. If that was really true, then that one guy wouldn’t have jumped off the roof of his building the day after he got out a month ago.”

Lance flinches at this statement, because Keith just says it so casual. As if suicide is so normal to him, like it’s nothing new. It makes Lance question if he’s here because he’ll never be good enough that people will be upset about his death.

Everyone else continues talking, but Lance just finds himself staring down at the table, imagining what it would be like to jump off a building. Would it hurt to land, his body smashing against the concrete, turning into just a bag of flesh that was once human? Or on the way down, would his mind finally be quiet, his body finally numb, so that it was no different than falling into his bed?

He doesn’t even notice that the room has emptied, and his table mates have left, until there’s a tap on his shoulder that startles him out of wherever he was. “Lance?” It’s the chef, his eyebrows narrowed in concern. “Should I call Coran or someone, man? You seem kind of out of it. Is there medication or something you aren’t used to?”

“I don’t need any,” Lance stammers out, before pushing his chair back. “I… Sorry, I guess I’m still just kind of adjusting to… this.” He stands up, and gets ready to leave, before realizing he has nowhere to go. He could walk around the building a little bit, but after that morning, he fears running into Allura.

With a soft sigh, Hunk speaks up. “I’m getting ready to cook lunch, if you want to help. Legally, you aren’t certified to really make anything, but you can hang out and make sure nothing burns if you want.”

“Alright, cool,” Lance agrees, and follows Hunk back to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, when the prep is done, and an awkward silence pools over them, he asks, “So… what are you making?”

Hunk places a tray full of vegetables by an empty pot. “Vegetable soup. But I have to make sure I set aside some of the noodles and beef chunks so that the OCD patients don’t flip out if their food is touching. Some of them won’t eat soup period so I have to make sandwiches… Could you grab me bread from the pantry? It’s on the right.”

Quickly, Lance searches for it. He finds two kinds of white bread, and grabs them both just to make sure. He places them on the counter, next to where Hunk is pouring the ingredients into the boiling broth. “I didn’t know which kind you wanted, so…” Lance gestures to the bread.

“Thanks, man,” Hunk says, but quickly grabs one of the loaves. He hurriedly puts it back in the pantry, before shutting the door.

“You got something more in there than bread?” Lance asks, raising an eyebrow. It had been a while since he’d had a little emotional enhancement.

Shaking his head with a laugh, Hunk walks back to the counter to begin making grilled cheeses. “No, I just get paranoid having it out. It’s the diet bread, like forty calories or something. It’s there for some of the patients who eat a lot because of their medication, just to make sure their diet is staying healthy. But if Keith were to find it, I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

“Oh… Sorry,” Lance says, before leaning back. Hunk shrugs it off, and places a few slices of bread on a pan.” At the mention of Keith, he thinks back to what he saw at lunch. He doesn’t know the specifics of what Keith did that was found out by Allura, but he assumes it was something like that. “I know you can’t answer in detail or anything, but I’m just curious, being his roommate, and all… What kind of stuff do you have to do for Keith? Or like, stuff maybe I should be aware of.”

Hunk places cheese slices on the bread. “I mean, not just Keith, but all the eating disorder patients have a set amount of calories they have to eat and aren’t allowed to exercise or go to the bathroom with the door closed. Just basic stuff. I would tell you to ask him for more, but he doesn’t really open up that much to people unless he feels like he’s bragging. When he first got here, he was pretty quiet, sat alone… Until one day, him and another patient… Plaxum, I think… get into it. Start telling each other about some of the gross stuff they’ve done, joking about it. It’s common with people with equally low self-esteem, but man… some of the stuff they said. Scarred me for life.”

Lance nods, watching as Hunk places a second piece of bread on top of the cheese and flips it. It simmers on the pan for a moment before dying down. He wonders if Keith walked all the way back to their room to dump the eggs out of his pants.

“Sorry,” Hunk says, turning the burner to low on the soup. “I know it kind of sucks being here for you guys, and here I am being such a downer.” They silently look just away from each other for a moment, an awkwardness settling between them. “I’m gonna start on the potatoes, if you want to turn on the radio.” He points behind him, and Lance sees it behind him.

While Hunk starts peeling the potatoes, Lance turns the dial up just a little bit, the music softly filling the area around them. He immediately recognizes the song, and can’t help but turn it up. Hunk turns his head, just in time to see Lance start mouthing the words.

“Dude, this song is so bad, how are they even playing it on public radio?” He jokes, putting the potato in his hands on the counter.

“Because Ne-Yo never gets old,” Lance says, just as the chorus comes in, and suddenly he and Hunk and singing on the top of their lungs. Somewhere in the mix, a potato becomes a microphone. Suddenly, Lance is ten years old using a broom as a dance partner in the garage trying to finish the chores his parents assigned him. But the song ends soon enough, and fades into a series of commercials, leaving Hunk and Lance back in the kitchen.

They both burst into a fit of laughter, and Lance nearly panics at the foreign feeling. It had been so long since he let himself go like that. When it’s over, just seconds later, his heart aches for it, asking him why he took it away so quickly.

The songs on the radio pass, weaving into lunchtime, and Lance finds himself coming back to see Hunk again before dinner, scheduling more chill time for the next day. Throughout the week, it becomes a routine for them, and Lance finds it more helpful than his actual sessions with Allura. She seems to be getting frustrated with him, barely getting anything out. Whenever the subject of his family comes up, whether it be in personal or group therapy, it feels like there’s two huge doors closing in his head, locking himself in, because he’s too ashamed for them to be included.

 

On day seven of his stay, he wakes up at five am, and finds himself nearly racing to the kitchen. Hunk has just arrived, tiredly putting his keys down and stretching. He’s surprised to see Lance so early, since they never spend time together before breakfast.

“I don’t know man, I’m just antsy I guess, since it’s been a week in this place already,” Lance explains, watching as Hunk starts preparing pancakes. He eagerly grabs ingredients for him as he asks for them, and aside from a little confusion, Hunk seems content, with the early hour making it harder for him to stay concentrated.

By the time other patients start rolling in an hour and a half later, Lance has eaten almost five pancakes with half a can of whipped cream. This continues throughout the day, Lance even going so far as to nearly knock a plate of salad from Hunk’s hands. By the time dinner comes around, he’d been exiled to the activity room, where he frantically filled in an entire coloring book, leaving Thace impressed.  

Pidge is in an even worse mood, even skipping their routine entirely just to push a half-eaten plate into the center of the table.

“Allura took my damn phone after I kept begging her to let me go to Matt’s ceremony,” they explain. “She said something about isolation and how I need to focus on myself.”

Shiro puts his hand on the table next to Pidge’s, to console them without touching them (which Lance learned the hard way tapping their shoulder two days prior). “It will be better for you to go back forever, rather than just two days anyway. There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

“Yeah,” Lance chimes in, leaning forward into the table. “Want to play video games with me? It’ll be really fun, and take your mind off of things. Then we could do crafts, I need to make some stuff for my siblings. And maybe we could walk along the fence and yell at cars as they drive by so they think we’re some kind of freak facility.”

All three sets of eyes stare at him in disbelief. “Uh…” Pidge starts, their eyebrows narrowed in confusion. “I would, Lance, but I’m gonna have to pass… it’s just, I can’t touch any of the controllers, so.”

Lance’s smile falls for a split second, and he looks back over to Hunk, who’s washing dishes. There’s extra that night, seeing as Lance may have accidentally knocked over the ingredients for the chili in his dancing before lunch. “Okay,” he leans in, his smile back. “How about this,” he whispers. Keith finally looks up from his untouched tray of chili and chips, finally interested in something other than his food. Shiro raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t intervene. Pidge looks nearly terrified at Lance suddenly breathing so close. “Come here after group. I have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i adore comments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading dog 
> 
> also special thanks to ari for beta reading and fixing my horrible mistakes!

Lance beats the rest of the group back to the cafeteria. He was completely silent during group and the behavior exercise, keeping an eye on the clock, hoping that Hunk would still be there. Thankfully, Hunk is on the last stretch of dishes, just the last trays. He doesn’t notice Lance coming in, too preoccupied with finishing his work. It takes him a second to decide what to do, he had acted on impulse when he suggested it. For the first time in a while, everything just felt so exciting, his heart fluttering every time someone acknowledges him. And he just wanted to be acknowledged by the group that so graciously welcomed him in.

Pidge, Keith, and Shiro come up behind Lance, confused looks on their faces. In the moment, Lance’s eyes lock on their target. “Here’s the plan,” Lance whispers, leaning into them. He feels like he’s on top of the world, “I’m gonna distract Hunk, while one of you grab the car keys that are on the side table.”

“What?” Pidge whisper yells. They gesture to Hunk, who has yet to notice them. “Are you crazy?”

“Come on,” Lance whines, “it’ll be fun, and if we don’t leave tonight you’ll miss it.” Pidge opens their mouth to protest for a moment, but shuts it. With a nod, they slowly start walking forward, Lance on their tail.

Shiro watches in disbelief, then looks at Keith. “We can’t let them just leave,” he whispers. “They need help; they aren’t ready to just go on a road trip. They’re too unstable, let’s get Allura while she’s still here,” he turns to face the door, almost walking out, until he notices that Keith has not followed him. “Keith!”

With a shrug, the smaller of the two says, “I could use a vacation from this place,” and follows Pidge and Lance. Shiro turns back around, reaching out to stop him just when Hunk turns around.

His eyes widen, startled by the sudden presence of the group for a moment. “Oh… hey guys, is everything okay? If you want a snack, I can pop some popcorn or make a bowl of chips.” His eyes fall on Keith, who rolls his eyes. “Or not.”

“Look,” Lance says, “Allura asked us to go to the store to get her some stuff. It’s really down low, you know, she didn’t even want Coran to do it.” He smiles at Hunk, seeing the keys still on the counter from the corner of his eye.

“Allura asked you to get something at 9 o’clock at night when she’s about to leave,” Hunk says, his tone flat. He stares at Lance, one eyebrow raised.

“Okay, I know it sounds bad. She just didn’t want Coran or anyone to know about it, you know, it’ll just be quick. We just need your car for like, half an hour.” Lance laughs a little, trying to lighten the mood. After a silent moment of Hunk giving him some weird faces, he lunges for the keys.

“Dude, come on,” Hunk pleads, grabbing at Lance’s bicep and pulling him back. Lance stretches out his arm, holding it away from the chef. However, Hunk being twice his opponent’s size gave him the advantage. Quickly, he snatched the keys back. With a smug smile, he swiftly turns around. “You guys know I wasn’t born yes-“

A loud pang interrupts him. One second, Hunk is victoriously putting his keys in his pocket, the next, he’s falling to Lance’s feet, passed out. “What the…” Lance starts, looking up from Hunk to find Keith with a frying pan in his hands. “Fuck. What the fuck? Is he okay? I hope he’s okay, he so cool… Also, Keith, dude, that was pretty sick!”

“Oh my God, Keith,” Pidge joins in. “That was like… some sort of video game move or something.” They go to high five him, only to flinch and pull back last second. “Sorry, uh… germs.”

“Keith!” Shiro says, his voice stern. He looks down at Hunk, who’s face down at Lance’s feet, car keys on the floor next to him. “Are you insane? At this rate, there’s no way Allura will let you stay in treatment here.”

With a blank face, Keith just responds “then I guess it’s time for me to go.” He and Shiro make eye contact for a moment, before he turns his head and puts the frying pan down.

“Shit,” Lance says, bending down for the keys. “Yeah, guys, we have to get of here before somebody notices.” He and Pidge turn around and start for the backdoor that leads to where Hunk parks, but are stopped by Shiro’s voice.

“You can’t just leave him here,” he says, pointing at Hunk. “When he wakes up he’ll be able to tell them exactly what happened.”

“It’ll be pretty obvious when he’s gone and we’re the only patients gone,” Keith argues.

“Yeah, but they won’t know that you hit him with a frying pan. Keith, if Allura hears about this, she’s not going to give you another chance.” With a sigh, Shiro squats down, and hooks his hands under the unconscious chef’s armpits. He looks up at the rest of the group. “Well?”

“You mean you’re… helping us with this?” Keith asks, surprised.

Shiro sighs, seemingly contemplating the decision. “Someone has to make sure that you don’t get killed on the way. Now help me lift him, he’s huge.” With a collective groan, the group lift the chef as high as they can and start dragging him to the door. Pidge watches for anyone as they pile out of the building.

The car only has five seats, just barely big enough that they can pile Hunk into the back with his knees bent. Once the back door is shut, Keith grabs onto Lance’s shoulder, holding himself up. He’s breathing heavily, hand reaching up to clutch his chest for just a moment before Shiro can see him. Lance holds the keys up, “Who’s ready for a road trip?”

They all pile in the car, Shiro looking back at the dimly lit building warily. It had been years since he left its property, choosing to not go on outings when they did arise. He had never even gone home for holidays. Lance turns on the car, and a quiet, slow beat comes on with the radio.

Just as he’s about to pull out of the parking spot, Shiro grabs his arm from the passenger seat. “Wait for Pidge,” he says. Lance, confused, finally notices Pidge sitting in the backseat with Keith, their head in their hands. They’re breathing heavily, nearly wheezing, and moving their lips, counting.

“No, go,” They squeak out, “I need to see Matt,” With cautious ease, they sit up, putting their back against the seat. In one breathe, they count to four. “It’s just so… dirty in here.” They huddle into themselves, peeling their back away from the seat. “Take interstate 40.”

“Just hurry up, before our extra weight wakes up,” Keith mutters, leaning into the window and shutting his eyes.

With a cheer, Lance steps on the gas, and pulls out of the parking lot. The shiny,  _Altea_ sign in the mirror.

 

He gets the car about twenty miles before it all comes crashing down on him. His parents are going to call the clinic tomorrow to talk to him, and they’re going to hear that their son went missing within a week. It only took him a week to ruin it all. Allura won’t let them back in after stealing the chef’s car and driving across the country. Lance, single handedly, not only ruined the opportunity for himself, but also for three other people. Because of him, three other people, who are all sicker than he is, will be kicked out of the clinic.

 _Could_  somebody be more sick than he is?

“What’s wrong with me?” He mutters to himself, unaware of his foot pressing down on the gas further. His body is numbing, as if he’s slowly turning to stone.

“Lance,” Shiro says from next to him. “You’re almost forty over the speed limit, slow down. There’s other cars around us.” The car speeds past another, increasing speed, the dial on the dashboard almost at the max. Around them, the lights and traffic lines blur by. “Lance, what are you doing? Slow down!”

“I’m so sorry,” Lance stutters out, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Oh God, Shiro, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. You’re all gonna get kicked out of Altea, and it’s all my fault.” A car honks at them as they pass it, but it quickly becomes an image in the distance.

“Lance, we chose to come with you. None of this is your fault, just take your foot off the gas and we’ll talk,” Shiro insists, slowly reaching out to Lance.

“I… I’m sorry,” Lance pleads. “I’m so sorry, I… If I had just died, none of this would be happening!” His voice breaks, and he shuts his eyes, huddling his feet up onto the seat. As the car starts slowing down, Lance buries his face in his knees, not letting go of the wheel.

After a minute, they come to a stop, in the middle lane. A driver gives them the finger as he drives around them. The only sound filling the car is Lance’s staggered breathing and the low volume radio. Pidge breaks the silence, their voice shaky. “Lance, I’m not a professional or anything, so don’t take me too seriously on this… But I’m pretty sure you were manic when we left, and now you’re depressive.”

“…what?” Lance asks, turning around to face them slowly. More cars pass by, with angry drivers.

“You know, like when you’re manic you act out, like when you decided to steal a car. Now you’re depressive, so your mood dropped. Happy to sad.” Pidge explains, although seems unsure of themselves.

“What Pidge is trying to say is that… Maybe you’re bipolar,” Shiro explains from the passenger seat.

Lance looks at himself in the rear mirror, then focuses on Keith, who’s just staring at him. “I don’t want to drive anymore,” he says, his voice calm, despite the aching feeling in his chest.

They rearrange when they’re sure there are no cars coming, Shiro taking the wheel, and Keith and Lance switching seats. Once he positions himself against the window, curled into as little space as possible, Lance takes deep breaths and drifts off to unconsciousness.

“So, how long do you think we have until we’re stranded on the side of the road?” Keith asks. “We’ll need gas money.”

“Gas, food…” Shiro says, eyeing the meter for the gas tank. There was still half a tank, but with non-stop driving, it would go faster than he wanted. “I guess we’ll have to figure something out.”

Keith sighs. “I remember some tips from my shoplifting days, I guess,” he says, putting his feet on the dashboard.

“We are not shoplifting, don’t be ridiculous. I’ve already left the clinic, I’m not going to jail.”

“Not to pry, but what did you even steal anyway?” Pidge asks from the back.

“Laxatives and diet pills were a little embarrassing to buy at first,” Keith responds, before turning the radio up, ending the conversation.  

 

Lance wakes up to the sun in his eyes, a drastic change from the cloudless night before. The car is still coasting down the highway, and he nearly pinches himself to check if it’s real. The events from hours ago rush back into his head, the play by play like a movie. He remembers how so suddenly he went from a light numbness to falling face flat on concrete. Next to him, Pidge stares out the window, and he remembers what they said.

“Where are we?” Lance asks, startling Shiro, who grips the steering wheel tighter.

“Somewhere in Nevada,” Shiro says, looking at Lance in the rearview mirror. “I thought we could stop at a rest stop soon and recollect ourselves, seeing as how we have a hostage in the back who’s bound to wake up eventually. We’ll need to make a route plan, figure out a driving schedule so that we don’t stop. We need to see if Hunk has anything on him, a cell phone, wallet. We’ll need money or we’ll run out of gas and be stranded in the desert.”

“You know what Shiro, you’re a real fun guy in the morning,” Lance says with a smirk, seeing the driver’s face go sour. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost six a.m. You’re lucky that I’m here Lance, or you would have ended up with a car full of idiots stranded in the desert with no idea where they are.” Shiro complains, and Lance shrugs and leans back into his seat.

“You have a lot of faith in us,” Lance says. Pidge smiles from the seat next to him, the bags under their eyes purple. In the front seat, Keith is asleep, his hair falling into his face.

“I’m sorry, I just… I’ve never spontaneously done something like this. I’ve always had structure. Discipline.” Shiro says. “The rest stop is only four miles away, we’ll figure everything out there.”

Lance and Pidge agree, and the car is quiet for a few minutes. “So you’ve never even like… sneaked out?” Lance asks, leaning forward to that his elbows rested on Keith’s seat. “Not even in high school?”

Shiro shakes his head. “I went straight from boarding school to military school to the army. There has almost never been a day in my life where I didn’t have a timed schedule to follow.”

“Shit,” Lance says, although isn’t much surprised. “I don’t know how I’d survive doing that. I can barely get up before noon.” Shiro just nods, and keeps driving. “Is that why you’re… you know. In a clinic?”

“My whole life lead up to being a soldier, and all I ended up doing was trading my arm and sanity for the purple heart. I don’t even know where it is, it’s just somewhere in my room at home.” Shiro chuckles to himself, and Lance decides to not ask any more questions.

 

By the time they arrive at the rest stop, everyone’s awake except Hunk. They crowd around the open trunk of the car, deciding what to do.

“We could just knock him out again and by the time we get back to Altea, we just put him on the floor again and say it was all a dream.”

“And that he was passed out for two weeks and no one bothered to touch him? No, Pidge.”

“We dump him here. He’s an adult, he can figure it out.”

“No. He’ll freak out and call the cops.”

“We hit him again when he wakes up. Problem solved.”

“Keith, no.”

All their bickering, plus the newly rising sun, brings Hunk back to the conscious world. It’s blurry at first, the four people standing over him barely recognizable. Then it all hits him at once. Lance. The keys. Suddenly blacking out. They were in front of some diner, the sun barely risen. “What the fuck?” Hunk gasps out, and the arguing above him stops.

It’s completely silent for a brief moment, everyone looking at each other peacefully. Then, Hunk springs up and launches himself out of the car. “Where’s my keys?” He yells, grabbing at Lance, who backs up and hides behind Pidge.

“Hey!” Pidge yells, dodging Hunk’s grabbing hands and jogging around the car, Hunk following in hot pursuit. They make two laps around it before Hunk grabs Lance, pulling him around to face him. “Where are my fucking keys, dude?” He yells, shaking Lance in his panic.

Before Lance can answer, Shiro holds them up with a blank stare. “You can have these back after we talk.” He says. “There’s a diner just right behind us. We reconcile there, and decide our next move.”

“There is no next move,” Hunk responds, grabbing for the keys, but Shiro holds them back. With a groan, Hunk drops his arms. “I don’t even know where we are, how long it’s been. At least give me that much, man.”

Shiro relaxes, his shoulder visibly dropping. “Nevada, just ten miles from the border. It’s about six am.”

 _“Nevada?”_ Hunk exclaims, his mouth gaping. “Are you kidding me? I need to call Shay, she’s probably worried sick. I need to call Allura and tell-“

“No!” Pidge cuts in, and Hunk looks down at them. “You can’t tell Allura where we are. Not until I see my brother.”

“You’re all sick, I can’t just condone this. You need to be brought back to Altea so we can sort things out,” Hunk insists.

“If you don’t take us to Pidge’s brother I’ll tell Allura all about how you willingly drove us out of the clinic,” Keith spats.

Hunk opens his mouth to say something, choosing to sigh instead. He presses his hand into his face and rubs it out. “You said there was a diner?”

Once they get seated, Hunk pulls out his phone and calls his girlfriend, telling her what happened but requesting she keeps it secret. Thankfully, she offers to cover his shift at the clinic. He also mentions that he has his debit card with him, and Shiro reassures him that he will be reimbursed for everything.

“I have cash back at Altea that should cover all the meals and gas. I’ve never gone on any of the trips, so it’s just been sitting there anyway.” Shiro says.

“That’s kind of sad,” Hunk says, just when the waitress comes by the take their orders. They go around, all getting mostly eggs and toast, even Pidge ordering food despite their fears.

“The whole kitchen is sanitized, right?” They ask. The waitress reassures them repeatedly that there is a health code and that there will be nothing wrong with the food.

She reaches Keith, a forced smile on her face, and asks for his order. “Black coffee,” he says, and looks away. With a nod, she jots it down, and disappears into the kitchen before anyone can say anything.

“Keith,” Shiro starts, and the table members all focus on him. “You have to eat something, there’s no way you aren’t hungry. Just get at least an egg or fruit, it doesn’t have to be too much.”

“It’s fucking breakfast,” Keith snaps back. “I’ve been stuffing my face for the past year, I’ll be fine.”

“We both know it doesn’t work that way,” Shiro continues. Rolling his eyes, Keith stands up. “Keith, you need-“

“Not now, okay? Give me a fucking minute to recollect myself. I’m going to the bathroom.” He shuffles out of the booth and storms toward the men’s room, leaving the others behind.

 

Coran nearly pees his pants at the look on Allura’s face, he eyes piercing into his body like a thousand blades. “What do you mean you  _lost_ four patients?” She yells, her eyes widening, nearly bulging out of her skull. “Coran, I trusted you as lead watch to make sure that nothing like this would ever happen!”

“Well, yes, I understand that Allura, it’s just, well, I always lock the doors and set the alarms to make sure no one gets out at night. But, well, you see… the alarms didn’t go off, somehow, and I try not pry too much in their rooms aside from the occasional check, so… I unfortunately didn’t notice until this morning.” He presses his fingertips together nervously.

Allura covers her forehead with her hand. “They could be anywhere by now,” She says, her voice calmer. “Who was it?”

“Yes, um… Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Shiro.”

With a gasp, Allura throws herself onto the couch. “I can’t believe Pidge and Shiro would do something like this,” she exclaims. “This is such a far stretch out of their comfort zones, I’m so proud of them!”

“I’m glad that you’re happy for them, Allura, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re out there in the world suddenly that they may not be ready for.”

“I know, Coran, I’m just trying to find the positives in a bad situation. We have to go after them, especially with that group… who knows how long before it blows up. If we don’t get there in time…” She trails off.

Coran sits down next to her, softening his posture. “Keith will die,” he finishes.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment to fuel me


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you ari for beta reading!!!!

“Why am I not surprised that this happened,” the man says. “Allura, I do respect your practice, but you know that you lack the discipline it takes to-“

“Shut up, Zarkon,” Allura snaps. “You know that we’re still high security. Our chef hasn’t shown up, so we believe that he has something to do with it. One of our OCD patients, Pidge Gunderson, was upset that I wouldn’t let them see their brother. They weren’t ready. Assuming that they were still angry at me, that must be where they’re going.”

Zarkon sips his coffee. “Perhaps you should keep tabs on your staff, then.” He side eyes Coran, who blanches and looks out the window.

Allura’s frown deepens, and she leans back into the couch. “Let’s just go over what we agreed to. One week for Coran and I to retrieve the patients while you keep up the routine and basic therapy sessions. No prying unless you have to. If any patients ask, we are on a business trip.”

With a smirk, Zarkon nods. “Don’t forget, you finally send that problematic boy over to me as well, and give up your idiotic hopefulness for him.”

“It is not idiotic to have faith in your patients,” Allura barks.

“It is when they’ve refused treatment so many times. You better move quickly before he does something irrational.”

“I like to think that he knows better by now.”

 

“I’m going to lose my fucking job,” Hunk says, as they coast down the highway. “I’m going to lose the best job I ever fucking had because of you… you people.”

“What did you call me?” Lance jokes from the backseat, squished in between Pidge and Keith. Hunk starts to laugh, but stops when he sees Lance’s smirk in the mirror.

“Since you’ve agreed to help us,” Shiro starts, “Then we’ll make sure that Allura knows the truth. That you were brought along unwillingly. Don’t worry.”

“Right,” Hunk mutters. “Because it’s not like I’m driving four run away mental patients literally across the country.”

“Just think of it as a road trip,” Lance says, “Singing in the car with your bros, eating greasy ass diner food, seeing the world’s largest whatever.”

“Now I’m having regrets,” Keith mutters from Lance’s right, before shutting his eyes and leaning into the window. Lance sticks his tongue out, the slight turn of his body causing him to nudge Pidge.

“If you touch me again I’m going to need to do a total wipe down of everything,” Pidge complains. “I… why didn’t I think of it before? We need to get to a store, I need disinfectant wipes, and a vacuum, and hand sanitizer, oh God-“

“Pidge, it’s okay,” Shiro says from the front seat. “There’s a gas station in a few miles, we’ll stop there, okay?” Pidge just nods, before curling themself up into a ball.

“What? I can’t stop, you said it was just there and back,” Hunk says, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“Think of it as a free cleaning,” Shiro says. Hunk opens his mouth to protest, but just groans and continues driving.

 

Once they arrive at the gas station, the group splits up, Hunk and Keith staying to put gas in the tank while the rest go in for wipes and snacks. The duo stands in silence for a few minutes, Hunk shuffling his feet in the asphalt, Keith looking around with furrowed eyebrows.

It’s Hunk who breaks the silence, unable to bear the uncomfortable feeling. “So… I heard you were the one who knocked me out.”

Keith looks at him blankly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No, it’s alright,” Hunk responds, to Keith’s surprise. “I mean, you had to do what you had to do I guess. Plus, I did not expect someone like you to have that type of strength.”

 _Someone like you,_ Keith replays in his head a few times. It was no surprise, that Hunk would think that. He was sure that everyone thought that. There’s no way that someone like him could do anything, right? “Yeah, I guess it was pretty impressive for someone with this much lard to be able to use that much force.”

Hunk stares at Keith in disbelief for a moment. “I was thinking more… lack of… mass?” Keith’s face doesn’t react. “Look, I know you’re sick and all dude, I get that… but I don’t see any ‘lard’ on your body. I’m the one with lard, if it makes you feel better.”

But it didn’t. Nothing could ever make Keith feel better. You can’t feel better about something when you aren’t capable of thinking about it any other way. “I need to use the bathroom,” Keith mutters, turning around and heading toward the building, leaving Hunk with a frown on his face.

When he gets inside, he immediately spots Shiro from a few isles away. He’s talking, his head facing down, at who Keith assumes is Pidge. He can vaguely hear their conversation, something about the difference between two brands of disinfectant wipe. Based on what he hears Pidge knows way too much on different types of bacteria killing chemicals.

With a sigh, he makes his way over to the bathroom, just in time for Lance to come out, shaking off his hands. “Be careful dude, there’s no paper towels in there,” Lance says, laughing a little bit, but stopping at Keith’s annoyed glare.

“You can put it away when you’re with me,” Keith states, crossing his arms.

Lance’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “Put what… I didn’t forget to pull up my pants or something, did I?” He looks down at his sweatpants.

“No, idiot,” Keith responds, rolling his eyes at Lance’s behavior. “Your front. How you pretend that everything’s okay. We all see through it. The whole point of car full of freaks is that you’re allowed to act like a freak. No one’s judging you for being fucking depressed, but we are judging you for acting like you’re not.”

“I’m not…” Lance starts, his tone confident. He looks at Keith’s face, frustrated and unhappy, and slows down. “acting,” he says, quieter. Keith goes around him into the bathroom, leaving Lance alone in the dim hallway. The flickering light shines against his skin, and slowly, he heads back toward Shiro and Pidge.

The water feels cold on his face, as if he jumped into an ice pool. Keith looks at himself in the mirror, analyzing. His cheeks have filled out since the last time he’d looked at himself this close. Allura didn’t allow mirrors. The last time he looked at himself like this in the mirror was the night before his first day in the clinic. Then, his cheeks sunk in, his cheekbones sharp against the flesh. Now he just sees round blubber coating his face, making him look swollen. Disgusting.

“Someone like you,” Keith says to himself, thinking back to what Hunk said. Angrily, he rips his shirt off, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the sink. By reflex, his eyes immediately fall on his stomach, no longer caved into his body. Instead, it sits just barely small enough that his ribs and hip bones can barely jut out. With furrowed eyebrows, Keith pinches the small slab of fat between his fingers. He would have to get rid of it again.

Now one thing was for certain: he would not be returning to Altea.

 

It took Pidge a full hour to clean out the car, and Hunk had to go back inside the gas station to get more supplies halfway through. Once they were on the road again and snacks were passed around, if one crumb was dropped, they would demand it get picked back up immediately.

Lance found himself purposefully holding his candy closer to Keith, just wondering if he would take even one piece. Two hours in, and he still hadn’t, choosing to stare out the window at the plain scenery going by. Judging by when they ate at the clinic the day before, it had almost been 24 hours since he touched food. Lance could tell Shiro was counting too, by the way he glanced back at the two every few minutes.

“So,” Hunk starts. “Since, you know, I’m gonna lose my job after this and all… I might as well make the best of it, I guess. Seeing as I’m just a chef and I don’t entirely understand the whole mental thing… What did you guys do before? You know, like your job, or whatever.”

The group look at each other, not because the question was intrusive, but because they didn’t know pre-illness details about each other. At least, not very specific ones.

“I went to school,” Pidge starts, their voice soft. “It was a special STEM school, you had to take a test to get in in 5th grade. I was valedictorian, on track to doing pre-med at Brown. My OCD was bad. It took me hours to do homework because I needed it all to be perfect. About a month into summer vacation it was so bad that I couldn’t even leave my room because the germs outside horrified me. I wouldn’t be able to move to go to school anyway, so my parents sent me to Altea.”

“Holy shit, you were Ivy League?” Lance says in disbelief, and Pidge nods, smiling. “Shit, I barely got into regular college.”

“I used to study for hours though, I graduated without any friends because I never had time to go out,” Pidge says, their smile faltering.

“All I did was party,” Lance responds, sinking back into his seat. “Went to a party school. Last semester I had a GPA of 1.5. This semester, 0.8. I’m wasting my parents’ money on it anyway. They pay thousands of dollars for me to sulk in a dorm room and get high.” And now they were wasting money paying for a treatment he wasn’t even getting. Why did he have to fuck up everything?

“It’s not your fault dude,” Hunk says from the driver’s seat. “I know it sucks, but it’s not like you chose to be sick, right? They can’t blame you for it. Once you get better you can go back to school and finish it.” Lance sighs and forces a smile, nodding. He knew Hunk was right, he didn’t chose to be this way, but he also knew he would never get better.

Keith looks at Lance for a moment, catching his eye, before looking away again. “I used to run a lot,” he says.

“What a surprise,” Pidge says, earning a glare from the boy.

“I mean I used to run competitively. I used to do races, 5ks, 10ks, I had even done a few marathons by the time I was 18. I was training for my first triathlon when I was finally exposed.” Keith says, his face faltering.

Everyone sits in silence, in surprise, for a moment. “What happened?” Lance asks, knowing that someone would have asked anyway.

“I hadn’t eaten in a few days. I passed out and crashed the bike, got taken to the hospital. I was fine from the crash, but their blood tests said it all. And suddenly, I’m sitting in a hospital bed with a pissed off coach and parents asking me how I could let myself get to that point. I guess ‘anorexic binge purge subtype’ was too much of a mouth full for them.” He chuckles at his own joke, but no one else laughs.

“Shit,” Lance says. “That must have sucked.” He gets a glare from Shiro, but sees Keith smile for a moment before answering.

“Yeah, it did.”

“Alright, Shiro, I’m dying to know,” Hunk says. “What’s with the metal arm, dude?”

Shiro tenses in his seat. He takes a deep breath, mouthing something, before answering. “I was on my second tour in three years. We were infiltrating a base, and an explosion went off. I got captured for a few days, and when the rescue team picked me up, my arm was gone.” His voice wavers at the end, and he gulps. Thus far, Lance had seen Shiro as this strong man who didn’t seem to need much help. But it must have taken a lot to make a soldier start to cry.

The group settle into a comfortable silence, the only noise passing cars and the soft music coming from the radio. Lance watches as the sun starts to go down, the light outside dimming.

 

They stop at another diner and this time Lance is ready to kill for a cheeseburger. The waitress sets them up with menus and leaves to let them decide for a few minutes. Lance watches as Keith quickly searches the menu, scanning it from front to back, before slamming it down on the table and leaving the booth.

Shiro sighs into his palm, unsure of what to do. At Altea, it was so easy. Keith was watched by orderlies and his health was monitored. Sure, he needed encouragement in the form of threats sometimes, but he generally followed the rules. Without that support, Shiro didn’t know how to help the boy, and sooner or later, Keith would be so out of reach that no one would be able to help him.

“It’s okay Shiro, it’s not like it’s the worst he’s ever done,” Pidge reassures. “He’s used to it by now, he’ll be fine once we get back.”

“I know, it’s just, you know what happens when we get back,” Shiro says, worriedly looking at them.

Hunk and Lance make eye contact for a moment, before Hunk speaks up. “What exactly happens when we get back?” He asks.

“Keith was on his last straw,” Pidge says, their eyes hazed with disappointment. “He got caught purging his food in some bag he hid in the garden. Allura said that was it, and that he would go to Zarkon’s if he messed up again.” Hunk and Lance stare at them, unsure. “Zarkon owns another clinic, but it’s known for a mostly drug based practice, more on physical benefits than mental. He’d put Keith in a feeding tube and load him up on anti-depressants until he can’t remember who he is anymore. Then as soon as he’s at the minimal weight he can be, they’d kick him out. It’s redundant. Almost a third of the patients who get ‘cured’ there end up dead within six months.”

The group sit in silence for a minute. “Shit,” Hunk responds. “If I had known I wouldn’t have… He can’t come out of this worse than he already is, can he? It’s not really my place, as just the chef, but… I want to help.”

“Let me do it,” Lance says.

Pidge and Shiro look at him. “No, Lance, it’s fine, you don’t have to,” Shiro says. “There’s no getting through to him in this state.”

“I can try. He already knows what to expect from you two, I’ll throw him a curveball.” With a slight smile, Lance gets up from the table. “Get me a burger, yeah?”

Keith’s sitting on a bench outside the diner, staring at a flickering lamp. A moth circles around it, struggling to find a place to land. The sudden weight on the bench startles him, and he flinches, before seeing Lance staring at the light as well. “Did they send you out here to bargain with me? Because I’ve heard it all before. Just one bite. Just the salad. Just the meat. I’m not interested.”

“I understand your frustration,” Lance says, not taking his eyes away from the winged creature. “Everyone just wants you to suddenly get better. To just get over it. They think they understand, but they don’t. It’s not like I went spiraling into… whatever this is, unnoticed. I used to have friends who’d bring me to all the biggest parties, and we’d get turnt as hell… and it was fun. Then gradually, I stopped going to more and more. Stopped going to class. I stopped even just getting lunch with one or two people. And no matter how much they told me to get over it and to just party it out, I knew I couldn’t. And I knew they didn’t understand.”

“You don’t understand either,” Keith snaps. “That’s the problem. You don’t understand what it’s like to… to hate yourself this much. To deny your body its most basic need.” Lance finally turns to look at Keith, just in time to see him run his fingers over his collar bones through his shirt.

“I might not get the whole food thing, but I know what it’s like to want to end it,” Lance says.

“I never tried to kill myself,” Keith mutters, crossing his arms.

“What do you think starving is?”

Keith looks into Lance’s eyes for a moment, and Lance can see the reflection of the lamp in the dark color. They’re wide, like a child who just got caught stealing from the cookie jar. As soon as Lance blinks, Keith’s looking away again. “I’ll go back in, but I’m not touching any of that disgusting lard you call food.”

“As long as you don’t point that out while I’m consuming it, we have a deal.” Lance smirks, and leads them back into the building.

The rest of the group seem surprised then Keith sits back down, but their faces falter as he assures the waitress he doesn’t want anything. As they eat, they discuss travel plans, leaving room for sleep and no night driving, to ensure no one falls asleep at the wheel. During the process, Lance notices Keith leaning in mere inches from his plate of fries. He inhales deeply, the salty smell taking over his senses, before leaning back in the cushioned seat. He looks like a goddamn addict who just snorted a line of cocaine.

After speaking with the waitress, Hunk reassures the group that they can sleep in the car for the night, earning a collection of groans and complaints. They spread out according to size, Keith and Shiro taking the two front seats, while Shiropidge tries their best to cram themself into the backseat and Hunk and Lance lay facing away from each other in the back. It’s surprisingly roomy, aside from Hunk repositioning himself every few minutes. Over time, everyone falls asleep, aside from Lance, who finds himself staring up at the dark car ceiling, trying his best to calm the screaming thoughts in his head. _What the fuck is wrong with you?_ He can’t stop it from repeating.

As the sun rises, he sits up to watch it peak over from the horizon. The colors are vibrant, shades of oranges and purples that overlap into each other. He almost wants to reach out and try to touch it, wondering if it would just absorb him into nothing. His tranquility in interrupted by voices coming from near the diner entrance. Another car has parked, the doors open. He catches a glimpse of piercing white hair and a curly orange mustache.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!!! feel free to leave a comment i love reading them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to ari for beta reading my garbage

“Hunk,”

The man groans.

“Dude, Hunk,”

He mutters something unintelligible, and turns back around.

“Allura is here.”

A moment of silence.

“Fuck.”

“What are you two saying? It’s like, 7 in the morning,” Pidge complains from the backseat.

“Coran and Allura are right there, probably asking if they’ve seen us.” Lance says, not waking up everyone. “We need to go before they see us.”

“So give me the keys, and I can drive us out of here,” Keith says, reaching his hands back.

“They’ll notice,” Hunk says. “They know what my car looks like. They’ll see us, and I’ll be so much more fired than I already am.”

“We need a distraction then,” Shiro suggests. “In situations of escape, it’s common to distract your enemy to get a head start on them.” Everyone stares at him. With a sigh, Shiro continues. “If we can get their keys somehow, and get them away from them, then we have a head start.”

“Yeah, but Allura is holding them,” Pidge mentions. “If you want them, you’re gonna have to grab them out of her hands.”

“I have over a decade of military training, this should be easy,” Shiro says.

“At least let me come with you,” Keith says. “If we work together, one of us will grab the keys, then we can just bring them with us. Then they won’t have a way to follow us.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I can handle it just fine,” Shiro says. He puts his hand on the door handle. “I… It’s an easy mission. I can handle it.”

Keith frowns. “I’m coming with you. You don’t have to do it alone.” He opens his door, and hesitantly, Shiro does too. Everyone watches as Keith slowly walks around the front of the car, standing next to Shiro. They give each other a look, before darting forward.

Allura notices them immediately, her eyes widening in surprise. “Shiro? Keith? What on earth do you think you’re doing? We’ve been looking for you all night! Come back with us imme-“ She gasps as Shiro goes for the car keys, tossing them to Coran.

“Allura? What are you-“ He shrieks as Keith reaches for the keys, grabbing them out of their hands, and darting behind them. Flustered, Coran chases after him, running to the back of the diner. He’s quick, but Keith’s _fast._ Lance can hardly believe his eyes, watching as he disappears behind the building.

Shiro moves out of the way as Allura reaches out to him, jogging backward, then running back to the car. She starts to follow, just in time to see Lance and Hunk climb out of the back. “Hunk? I knew it was you!” She yells, now changing her path to him. Shiro jumps in the front seat, watching as Keith rounds back around the building, the keys still with him. Coran comes up about ten feet behind him, yelling incoherently. Keith starts making his way to the car, holding the keys up, an actual smile on his face.

“I know Allura, but it wasn’t my fault!” Hunk yells. “They made me go, I swear!” She gives him a death glare, and he whimpers next to Lance. At the sound of Keith’s shoes against the gravel, Allura turns around, determined to get the keys back.

“Keith, give those back to me right now!” She demands, launching herself forward at a surprisingly fast pace. Keith brings himself to stop, sliding on the asphalt. His face quickly shifts from that of surprise to fear. “When we get back to Altea, I am going to-“ Allura’s cut off as Keith chucks the keys behind her.

With a jump, Lance catches them. As Allura turns around, fire in her eyes, he panics, and throws them as hard as he can into the road. “Sorry, Allura! Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he repeats as he flings himself into the back of the car, pulling Hunk in with him.

“Lance!” Allura screams, her attention now on the grassy median in between the lanes. Coran comes up behind her just as Keith shuts his car door, and within a second, the group of escapees are flying out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.

The two watch as the car drives out of sight. With a sigh, Allura steps onto the pavement, just in time for Coran to pull her back and a motorcycle to speed by. She tries it again, but the same thing occurs, only this time the woman riding it flips off the therapist. A large group of motorcyclists come up behind her, their bandana’s and leather jackets swaying in the wind.

“Well, this may be harder than we thought, Allura.” Coran mentions.

“Just stop talking.”

 

“You guys are all idiots,” Pidge says, now squished between Hunk and Lance. They shift every time a shoulder touches them, but otherwise seems unbothered. “All you had to do was grab the keys and run back to the car. You didn’t have to race around the building, or toss them in the road somewhere.”

“I already apologized for that,” Lance pouts. “But at least we got a head start, like you wanted, right Shiro?” He receives no answer. Instead, Shiro just stares forward at the road, not even twitching. “Okay…”

The light, playful air in the car suddenly changes. It feels heavy, like they’re all breathing cement. Hunk looks over at Lance, a worried look on his face, before turning his head back. They continue in silence for a few more miles, everyone checking back for Allura’s car, but it stays clear.

“We’re stopping for food in ten minutes,” Shiro says, his voice firm. “Then we’ll drive into the night, switching shifts so that we don’t stop for too long.” No one says anything, they all just nod. Keith looks back at the three in the backseat, his eyebrows narrowed in worry. His eyes linger on Lance for a second, and they stare into each other’s eyes for a brief moment.

Once they arrive at the rest stop, this time with a collection of different places, they split up to get food while Shiro and Pidge hang back to get gas. Keith and Lance band together, going into a convenience store with the mission of getting food to last the rest of the day. Lance looked around, searching for larger bags that could be shared, finding a few items before going to show them to Keith. He finds him in the candy isle, a candy bar in his hand, looking at the label.

“D’you want that one?” Lance asks, looking at it. He recognizes the label. “Oh, dude, those are sick. The marshmallow part is so fucking good. I’ll add it to the basket.”

“No,” Keith snaps. “No, I… I’m just looking at it. I don’t need it. I don’t want it.” Keith puts it down and walks away, not sparing Lance a look. He listens for the door to beep, indicating that Keith had left, before grabbing the small package. He browses a little longer before feeling satisfied with his finds, deciding to pay and leave.

Once back outside, he looks over at the car, where Pidge, Shiro, and Keith all stand, talking. Shiro’s finishing up putting gas in the car, while Pidge and Keith whisper to each other, seemingly arguing. Lance feels his heart sink, because it was all his fault. Before he got there, they were just fine, all trying to get better together. And then Lance got there. He ruined it for all of them. If he had just done it earlier, if his mother hadn’t walked in when she did, none of this would be happening.

“You good, dude?” Hunk asks from behind him, resting his hand on Lance’s shoulder. His face is worried.

“Yeah, I’m fine man,” Lance responds, gripping the grocery bag tighter. He feels weak, like suddenly the snacks are too heavy for him to hold. Everything feels too heavy.

“Look, I know I kind of freaked out about the whole… kidnapping thing and all, but you can still talk to me, dude. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about all of you, to be honest.” Hunk continues, “I can see that you’re blaming yourself for all of… whatever’s happening. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t effecting you too, Lance.”

“I said I was fine, man. It’s them we should be worried about.” Lance gestures to the group, watching as Pidge and Keith gently talk to Shiro.

“Lance, I don’t know why, I’m not experienced or anything in this stuff. I’m just a chef,” Hunk says. “But I can tell that you aren’t okay. That… none of you are, really. Let’s just focus on getting Pidge to Matt’s graduation for now, alright?” Lance just nods, and they start walking together. Hunk grabs the grocery bag out of Lance’s hands. They fall straight down to his sides, his hands feeling like they’re filled with cement.

The others’ conversation comes into earshot. “Shiro, you can talk to us. What’s going on?” Pidge pleads, their voice soft.

Shiro doesn’t answer. He just stares out toward the highway, clenching his jaw. “Shiro I know you haven’t gone a day without a session in years. Come on, just talk to us,” Keith says. Shiro finally breaks away from the cars, and looks at Keith just as Hunk and Lance come up behind him. “Shiro,” Keith meets his gaze.

“It’s my fault,” Shiro whispers, his knuckles going white with how hard he clenches his fists. “If I was more aware, then I would have been faster. I would have just grabbed the keys from her, and we would’ve been quicker to get away.”

“What?” Keith asks. “Shiro, it’s fine. We still left them behind. It’s not a big deal.”

“No. I could’ve handled it myself. I could’ve…” Shiro takes in a deep breath, looking away again. “If I hadn’t looked away then none of them would have died.”

The others look at each other for a moment, the atmosphere shifting to that of fear. “Shiro, we need you present here,” Pidge says, reaching out to hold his forearm. With a cry, they’re shoved back into the car, Shiro’s non-metal arm holding their neck against the door. They claw at his forearm, gasping for air, but unsuccessful.

“Pidge!” Keith yells, grabbing for Shiro’s arm. He ducks a swing from the metal arm, Shiro tearing his gaze from Pidge to him. His eyes are wide but teary. There’s something dark about his stare, and it sends chills down Keith’s spine.

Gasping for air, Pidge tries to push Shiro away, but has no luck until Hunk’s arms hook under Shiro’s armpits, pulling him back. Weakly, Pidge falls to their knees, grasping their neck, taking deep breaths. Keith watches for a second as Shiro starts trying to fight Hunk, before kneeling down at their side. He wraps an arm around their shoulders, pulling them in to his chest.

Shiro pulls away from Hunk, turning around to face him and Lance. They both step back, the grocery bags dropped in the parking lot. “You’re scared of me,” Shiro breaths out. He looks down at his metal arm, watching the sunlight reflect off of it for a moment. “I… I let him die,” he mutters, before collapsing himself, his knees slamming against the concrete.

It’s silent for a minute, everyone catching their breath. Keith helps Pidge up, careful not to put pressure on their chest. Shiro watches this, his eyes becoming watery, before he buries his face in his knees. It happens slowly, but Pidge holds their hand out in front of him. He doesn’t notice it at first, not until he hears Hunk pick up the grocery bags. Shiro stares at Pidge’s hand, a surprised look on his face, before he gently grabs it. Pidge half smiles as they pull Shiro up.

“Everyone, get in the car,” Hunk says. His demeanor has shifted, from the goofy chef, to something else. He’s not angry, he’s not tense. Lance can’t exactly pinpoint what he is, but it’s enough to get him to listen to him. Pidge guides Shiro to the passenger seat, but he shakes his head and takes a seat in the back, cramming himself next to Lance and Keith.

Without words, Hunk passes around food, and then drives out of the parking lot. He turns up the radio, some soft indie music Lance has never heard filling the air. Everyone looks at each other, but says nothing.

They speed down the highway in silence, long enough for the sun to start setting. There is no sight of Coran or Allura, despite their stop at the gas station being longer than planned. Lance is busy watching the scenery go by, when he feels a pulling at the bag of chips at his feet. He looks down just in time to see Keith’s shaking hand grab a few chips. He brings them up to his mouth slowly, staring at the seat in front of him. Lance nudges Shiro with his elbow. Shiro flinches, seemingly caught off guard, before looking at Keith slowly chew one of the chips. The others he grabbed remain in his hand, but Lance waits to turn away until he sees him swallow.

A few hours after sunset, Hunk pulls into a motel parking lot. They all wait in the car for him to come out with two keys. “Split up the rooms how you want. I’m going to bed. We leave at 7 tomorrow.” Lance checks the time, it’s barely 10.

They file out, one by one, standing together in the parking lot. It’s quiet, with no one around, aside from Hunk going into one of the rooms. The tension from before is gone, although Shiro’s shoulders are hunched over, his usual confident posture gone. Lance looks around, and spots a pool, dimly lit. No one around him moves, but he finds himself drawn to it. Without a word, he starts walking over, jumping the fence to get in.

It’s empty, the water still. He looks at his reflection in the pool water, something he hadn’t done in months. His freshman year of college, he would get up early enough to swim a few laps before his classes, but he lost that motivation long ago. He taps the water with the edge of his shoe, watching as his face shifts with the small waves of the pool. Looking into his own eyes makes him feel like he’s staring at a stranger.

Next thing Lance knows, his clothes are on the ground, and he’s splashing into the water. The chlorine makes his eyes burn, but he keeps them open anyway. Around him is just the cement and reflection from the streetlight, but it feels ethereal. It’s so still, as if he’s floating in nothing. There’s no sound, just a quiet ringing in his ears. It feels like hours pass, even the stinging in his chest feeling like a dream. Watching the bubbles flow up as he breaths out, Lance puts his hands over his eyes, embracing the darkness.

Everything almost disappears, but then there’s lights and cold air hitting his face and he’s gasping and someone’s screaming and he’s lying on the ground. “Can you hear me? Lance? Lance?” Shiro’s voice cuts through the air like a sharp blade piercing Lance’s chest. He coughs, and forces himself to sit up, opening his eyes. They burn, making everything fuzzy for a second. “Lance, what the hell is wrong with you? If I hadn’t come out here looking for you, you might’ve-“

“Died?” Lance interrupts. “Drowned? Whatever? I…” The burning in his chest is still there. “I know. I fucking now, alright? Thanks for saving me, I guess.” Shiro’s eyes widen, and Lance looks away. Another thing ruined, because of him.

They sit together for a moment, Shiro shaking the water off of his metal arm. He adjusts so that his feet are resting in the water. “It was your idea to go on this trip, and at first, I thought it was because you were itching to get out of Altea, even though it was so soon.” Shiro starts. He watches as Lance hesitantly comes next to him, putting his foot in the very pool he tried to disappear in. “But I understand it now. You’re scared of getting help. You can’t think of yourself as anything but… whatever this is.” He gestures to Lance. “You may joke, but we see how hollow you are inside.”

Lance takes a deep breath, looking up at the moon. “I don’t know. I just don’t care. About whether or not I get help, or whether or not I come back from this trip, or anything. Nothing matters to me anymore, I just… do whatever looks good at the time. And this time, the bottom of the pool looked good.” Shiro gives him a worried look, but says nothing, turning his gaze to the sky as well. They sit together for a few minutes, just the sound of the occasional car going down the highway interrupting the silence.

“So…” Lance starts, although Shiro doesn’t look at him. “What was… you know… the whole attacking Pidge thing about, anyway?”

Shiro cringes, resting his forehead in his palm. “I… I haven’t gone more than a day without medication, or a therapy session, in years. And it’s taking a bigger toll on me than I thought, I suppose. It’s hard for me to not consider most things as some sort of mission. Allura’s been working on it for years, but it’s still there. When I couldn’t get the keys from Allura, I… I told myself that I failed the mission. And I can’t… fail a mission again.” It seems like it’s painful for Shiro to continue talking, so Lance doesn’t push it. They sit in silence for a few more minutes, basking in the clear night air.

“Hey,” It’s Pidge who interrupts them, standing at the locked gate of the pool. “Mind letting me in? I could use some headspace.” Lance and Shiro look at each other, Shiro’s eyes pleading.

“Sure thing,” Lance says, getting up and grabbing his clothes. He lets Pidge in, but steps out himself. “I’ll let you two… reconcile, or whatever.” He says. Pidge hands him a room key, and he turns his back on the duo.

After fumbling with the key for a minute, he finally gets the door open, finding Keith sitting on the floor in front of the TV. The bag of chips from before sits in front of him, still folded closed. He looks up at Lance, looking nearly panicked, before turning away. “So Shiro found you, huh?” He mutters.

“Yeah,” Lance responds, adjusting his clothes, having just slipped them back on. He takes a seat next to Keith, their knees touching, and starts watching it. It’s some late night show, with a celebrity guest he doesn’t know. They both stare at it, but their minds seem elsewhere. “How long has it been since you last ate?” Lance asks, although he doesn’t look at Keith.

“Before I ate that fucking potato chip, almost 72 hours.” Keith says, anger in his voice.

Lance reaches forward and opens the bag, grabbing a few chips. “Want some more?” He asks, finally tearing his gaze away from the screen. He and Keith meet eyes for a moment, before Keith looks away.

“No,” He says. “I… I can’t.” Keith scoots back, distancing himself from the bag.

Frowning, Lance finishes his chips, before getting up and digging through one of the other grocery bags. “Ha,” He sneers, holding up the candy bar from the store that morning. “Remember this?”

Keith nearly flinches. “What the… you got that?” Keith asks, anger in his voice. “Why?”

“You just… looked like you really liked it, so…” Lance starts, walking back over. “I got it, just in case you wanted to eat something.” He holds it up. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?” Keith repeats, his eyes shifting from Lance, to the chocolate.

“Want to eat it,” Lance finishes. He unwraps it, holding it out. “Just one bite won’t hurt you, you know.”

“Yes, it will,” Keith says, but he doesn’t move his gaze, watching Lance wave around the food.

Lance sighs, looking over how Keith’s cheekbones protrude just barely too much, how the skin under his eyes are purple against his pale skin. “I don’t completely get this, but I do know that you need basic sustenance to survive, man.” He pushes the candy bar forward, eyes widening when Keith grabs it and throws it across the room, the candy bar landing somewhere in between the two beds.

They meet eyes again, this time neither of them breaking. Keith’s eyes gleam in the lamp light, making Lance’s chest feel tight. Slowly, Keith brings a hand up to Lance’s cheek, cupping it gently, his cold fingers like ice against the skin. Not breaking his stare, Lance reluctantly brings a hand up to rest on Keith’s upper back, the sharp edges of his shoulder blades prominent. They both move forward with a sluggish ease, until their foreheads are mere centimeters apart. Keith’s shaggy hair feels soft against Lance’s cheek, reminding him of cradling up in bed. Before they can get any closer, Keith shuts his eyes, and sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth. With that, he lets, go, and walks out of the room, not looking behind him at the frozen Lance. Once the door closes, Lance’s muscles relax, and he turns around, eyes falling in the candy bar on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! also i love comments. 
> 
> ps if i made a playlist for this piece would you bump it? let me know


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. im very academic and on my first semester of college, so please bear with me. 
> 
> thanks for reading!

The distance between them feels like miles, and it contributes to the void in Shiro’s chest that is constantly growing. He was reluctant to let Pidge come near him at all, but now that they’ve chosen to settle nearly two feet away, it hurts even more. The bruises along their chest are barely visible at the hem of their shirt, and Shiro fears what they look like under the material.

“I know you didn’t mean for it to happen,” Pidge says, curling their knees to their chest. “I don’t know that much about PTSD, but I’ve learned from you that it can have unexpected consequences sometimes. I know you’re blaming yourself, Shiro, and I don’t want you to.”

Shiro’s heart aches at this person who has only been in a small fraction of his life. Even in Altea, Pidge always knew how to make Shiro feel better, more than anyone he had met between his training and tours. “Pidge, I was out of line. In my training, I was taught to never hurt a comrade, and to always put the people I’m fighting for first. Hurting you was the ultimate betrayal to everything I know, and I am so deeply sorry, I know there’s nothing that can-“

“Stop it with that,” Pidge snaps. “Whatever training you had, whatever you were told, doesn’t matter now. You aren’t a soldier anymore Shiro, we aren’t on some tour in Afghanistan, or wherever you went, we’re sitting next to a crappy motel pool at 1 am. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up with this.”

The silence that comes after isn’t heavy, it doesn’t feel like weight added to Shiro’s shoulders. It’s calm, for the first time in a long time. After a few minutes of just staring at the moonlight in the pool, he speaks up. “I lied,” he says. Pidge looks at him, a confused look on their face. “I lied to you and Keith. I lied to Coran. I lied to Allura. I even lied to my own sergeant. I lied to my family. About what happened in Mosul.” He shivers at the word.

Pidge scoots closer. “What are you talking about?” They ask, a confused look on their face.

“I… We were attacked unexpectedly, and taken by the enemy. I don’t even remember which group it was…” Shiro starts, shuttering. “We woke up in a dark cell, two guards with machine guns on either side… It smelled like chemicals… It was days before we got help… But I wasn’t rescued, like I told everyone. I… One of my friends was in there with me. Let’s call him Sven. He… he acted out, and they shot him, but he was still alive. In all the chaos, there was an opening, and instead of hanging back, trying to help him like I was trained to, I just… started running. On the way out someone got me in the arm a couple times. Next thing I knew I was back in the daylight, in the desert, alone. The rescue team found me two days later, with infected injuries. We never saw Sven again. Ever since then, all I can think about is how if I had just waited, then maybe I could have helped him, instead of putting myself first.”

“Oh, Shiro,” Pidge wraps their arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for that. If you had stayed behind, you probably wouldn’t have come back either. Then we’d all be in shambles.”

Shiro brings his non-metal hand up to grasp Pidge’s arm gently. “The sooner we get you to Matt, the better. I’m not the only one having… problems with not being in treatment. I’m worried about Lance too. And Keith.”

Pidge sighs, leaning in hesitantly to rest against Shiro. They’re tense at first, but eventually relax. “But first, I want to get out of this germ invested pool area.”

Lance, somehow, managed to pace the room so much to the point that he doesn’t remember falling asleep on the floor, but managed to do so. His neck is so stiff he can’t move it to see Pidge and Shiro on the separate beds, still sleeping. Keith is nowhere to be found, and after last night, Lance can’t blame him. He doesn’t know what was wrong with him, why he wanted to pull Keith in so badly. It didn’t make sense anyway, for Keith to want him back. It was a sympathy touch, nothing more. Lance would never be anything more.

Needing to get away from the room, and the candy bar on the floor, Lance goes outside for some much needed fresh air. Hunk’s already at the car, sitting in the open trunk with a few granola bars. He waves Lance over, seeming far less tense than the day before.

“Hey man,” Hunk says, his voice chipper. “Did you sleep good? I slept like a baby.” Lance shrugs. “We should be at our destination by midday tomorrow, if we drive all night.” Receiving no verbal answer, again, Hunk continues. “You okay, man? I mean… I know you pretty much aren’t, but… it’s good to get around and clear your head. You should take a walk for a little bit until Pidge and Shiro wake up, alright?”

At first, Lance nods, before he realizes what Hunk’s saying. “What about Keith?” He asks, thinking back how he left the room the night before.

Hunk takes a bite of a granola bar. “He slept in my room last night, rolled in pretty late. Didn’t talk much, just fell asleep on the other bed. My alarm woke him up, but I haven’t seen him since. He said something about going for a walk, though. Maybe you’ll run into him. Just… don’t be out too long.” He claps Lance on the back, smiling. Lance nods, and leaves the car, heading toward the pool.

He loops around the fence, taking a glance at the water he engulfed himself in yesterday, wishing he had succeeded. It’s still in the sunlight, looking even more inviting, but he keeps strolling around. The quiet morning is interrupted when he spots movement in the back of the motel around the dumpsters. He almost turns back, not wanting to be seen, before he spots a familiar head of black hair.

“Keith?” Lance calls out, immediately getting the other’s attention. His legs are hanging over the dumpster, but they fall to the ground when he hears his name.

“Go away, Lance,” Keith responds, turning his head away. There’s a noodle in his hair, and Lance comes up behind him to pull it out.

“What are you doing?” He asks, looking at the food for a second before tossing it on the ground.

“Nothing. Now go away,” Keith mutters, crossing his arms. The stench from the trash can surrounds them, nearly making Lance gag.

“I doubt that,” Lance responds, glancing into the bin. There’s a mix of ripped bags, an assortment of tossed out food, and dirty towels. “What’s in here that’s so important?”

“Nothing,” Keith says. “I’m…” He sighs. “I’m fucking bingeing, okay?” His tone changes, from the assured annoyance from before, to a softer, seemingly disappointed feel. Lance knows it all too well. “I’m disgusting, revolting, whatever. You might as well get out while you can.”

Lance wants to say something, he can feel it in his throat, his chest. But he doesn’t, he can’t, as he watches Keith lean into the dumpster and shove a handful of noodles into his mouth, unknowing of how long they’d been there, or where they were from. He watches, his chest tightening up, as Keith piles the food into his mouth, over and over, until there’s none left in the dumpster. His eyes are wide, watery, his body shaking with what Lance can’t tell is fear or dread, probably both. He’s frozen. It doesn’t matter how much his head in screaming at him to grab Keith and hold him, at least stop him, he can’t do it. All he does is force himself to witness the acts.

Keith, slowly, lets his feet drop to the ground again, his body suddenly still. Without even sparing Lance a glance, he steps over to the side of the dumpster, quickly pressing a hand to his stomach. He doubles over as whatever he just consumed pours out and splatters onto the pavement with a heavy cough. “Fuck,” he mutters, losing his balance, falling to his knees. The vomit splashes as his hands and knees land in it, but he just continues.

The feeling in Lance’s chest starts burning, spreading around his entire body, and then he’s running. The wind doesn’t cool him down, nothing can help him, everything is on fire. He doesn’t even remember saying anything, or yelling, or getting to the others at all. It feels like the next time he takes a breath, his back is against Hunk’s car, and he’s sitting in the dirt of the parking lot. It takes him a minute to realize that Hunk’s hand is on his shoulder, and in front of them Shiro is pulling Keith into one of the rooms, followed by Pidge.

“It’s my fault, you know,” Lance says, Hunk turning his gaze to him. “That Keith… did that. Last night, I tried to get him to eat a candy bar, and he freaked out, and I must have triggered something, or whatever, so he ate food from the fucking dumpster, and-“

“Lance,” Hunk interrupts. “It’s not your fault. Keith was bound to binge one way or another. He’s been fasting for days, his body needed fuel. I’m not a professional or anything, but I can tell you something or other about his eating habits. It’s not your fault.”

With a sigh, Lance leans back against the car. “If I hadn’t decided to fucking knock you out in the first place, none of this would be happening. If I had actually died, like I was meant to, then none of this would be happening.”

Hunk looks away from him, eyes wondering to the road. “I don’t know about you, but as far as I’m concerned, no one is meant to die from slit wrists. Dude, you really need to start looking at things differently. Yeah, things suck, people suck… but not everything sucks. There has to be something that makes you happy.”

At first, nothing comes to mind, and it makes Lance’s chest ache again. Then, he’s bringing his forehead down to his palm, and sighing. “ _Mi familia._ My family, they… they don’t even know where I am. I need to call them; I need to tell them where I am. Worried, they were so worried about dropping me off at Altea, and I’m not even there, oh my God.”

Hunk reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, “You can use this to call them, just… don’t mention my name.”

He’s barely done talking when Lance snatches the device and types in the number. He hesitates to press call, scared that if he told his parents about where he was, it would be the last straw. When he woke up in the hospital the day after he swallowed those pills, the room was empty. His whole body was aching, his head pounding. The lights were so bright, he thought that he had died to a minute. It wasn’t until he realized his arms were tied to the bed that he had lived through it.

His mother’s voice still echoes in his head, how she had screamed his name when she opened the door. For a moment, Lance wonders if she would have had the same reaction if she showed up just five minutes later. When the hospital door opened the first time, it was his father screaming at him, asking him how he could do it. He had never seen him so angry, not since the time he caught Lance making out with some boy from English class in 8th grade.

He hadn’t even realized that he hit the dial button until he can hear his mother talking into the phone. “I said not to call this number anymore, I’m not buying anything.”

Just as it sounds like she’s about to hang up, Lance yells into the phone. “Mom,” She stops muttering for a second. “Mom? It’s Lance.”

“Lance?” The sound of his mother saying his name makes him feel like he’s at home again helping her in the kitchen, like he used to do before everything stopped mattering. “Who’s phone is this? Dónde estás? I thought they took your phone at Altea?”

With a sigh, Lance leans back into the car door, resting his body weight against the metal. “They did, I… I’m not there. I don’t even know where I am. I’m somewhere near the east coast I think?” He can hear his mother’s gasp, and then another voice, probably his fathers.

“What do you mean? Did they put you on drugs already? We warned that doctor about how you already are. I’m going to come down there right now to talk to her.” He hears shuffling, most likely her getting up to find her keys.

“No, mom, I mean…” Lance trails off, his heart pounding harder and harder in fear of disappointing his parents. Again. “I did something bad, and I got out, and now I’m somewhere close to some place that I don’t even know… I’m with people… Allura is on her way looking for me right now. Please don’t be mad.” He was always asking them to not be mad. When he failed baseball tryouts. When he broke up with his high school girlfriend. When he didn’t get into his first choice college.

There’s silence on the other line for a few seconds, and Lance feels Hunk’s hand gently hold onto his shoulder. Then he hears this time his father’s voice, “Son, listen to me. I want you to stay where you are and wait for the doctor, okay? Do not do anything, just sit there, okay? We aren’t mad. We’re worried.”

He hadn’t been expecting such a calm response. “I can’t. I… It’s my fault that we’re here, I need to at least finish what I started, Dad.” His mother’s voice can be heard again, saying something to his father.

“Lance,” his father says, voice wavering. “Whatever you decide to do… Whatever happens, we love you. I love you.” It had been so long since Lance had heard his father so emotional.

“Dad,” Lance pleads, sinking down to the asphalt. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I… I know I constantly fuck up, over and over… I’m sorry I couldn’t be normal.” He buries his face in his hand, feeling the wetness seep through the cracks in his fingers.

There’s more shuffling on the phone, and this time it’s both of his parent’s voices. They talk over each other at first, before it’s just his father again. “I should be the one to apologize. I’m sorry I put so much pressure on you, I… I shouldn’t have tried to make you into what I wanted. I should have just accepted you for who you are, Lance. Please, come back home as soon as you can… I want my boy back.”

Before anyone else can say anything, Lance hangs up. He sits there in the silence for a minute, replaying the conversation in his head over and over. For the first time in his life, he felt completely free of his parent’s influence.

 

 “I’m sorry I’m so disgusting,” Keith mutters as the water runs down his face, washing away the remnants of vomit and rotten food. He feels a hand running down his bare chest, gliding a bar of soap. Shiro doesn’t respond, he just continues rubbing off the mess from his friend’s body. He tries not to flinch as his hand glides up and down the mountains and valleys of Keith’s exposed ribcage. They left his underwear on, but he can still see how the barely cling to his hip bones. “Why are you helping me?” Keith asks. “You should have just left me back there; I’m not helping anyone.” Above him, Pidge uses the shower head to rinse off any soap, holding they’re breath.

“Keith, you’re our friend,” Shiro says, reaching over to his back. His shoulder blades protrude out, and Shiro would be lying if he said it didn’t make him a little sick. “We care about you.”

“I wish you didn’t,” Keith sighs, leaning back into Shiro’s touch. The water washes over his face, and he shuts his eyes.

“You’re not getting out of this,” Pidge says from above. “We’re getting to Matt, together. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be here anyway. It’s all so unplanned… and it’s the first time I haven’t used a written schedule in years.” They turn the water off while Shiro grabs a towel. Keith doesn’t say anything; he just stares up at them. Hesitantly, Pidge reaches a hand out. At first, Keith just stares at it, before grabbing it slowly. With a smile, Pidge continues, “I grabbed a dirty shower head for you, Keith. You’re making it.”

 

Lance and Hunk are already sitting in the car when the rest of the group comes out. Keith’s hair is still wet, sticking to his neck. When they pile in, Lance gets scooted to the middle, and tries to make himself as small as possible, but doesn’t succeed, as Keith rests his head on his shoulder.

“If we leave now, we should be able to get to my family’s cabin by sunset,” Pidge says. “We can stay there until tomorrow. My parents can’t know we’re going, or they’ll send us all back.”

Taking a look at everyone once, Hunk just nods, and starts the engine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone draw fanart lol 
> 
> leave me a comment complaining about how long i take to update lmao


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry this took forever. i had finals and a huge paper and stuff so. but it's back! and i will be finishing this so don't worry about it.

Hunk doesn’t like to think about how he got his job at the clinic. He enjoyed it, for sure, aside from the death glares he would get from the anorexics. Shay had done nothing but support him, encouraging him to venture out of his comfort zone and pursue his passion.

It was Coran, really, who had gotten him the job. When he applied, he was sure he wouldn’t hear back, given his lack of experience. As it turned out, they had hired two people prior to Hunk, but they had quit within a week, given the difficulty of dealing with some patients. Allura wasn’t too keen about Hunk, who had only had experience at fast food chains, showing up, but Coran claimed that he was sure he was the one. Within five minutes of being in the kitchen, Pidge themself came in with a checklist of how to exactly prepare their food.

Allura had been watching intently as Pidge collected the tray, looking pleased. From then on, Hunk made sure to follow all of the rules and instructions he was given. It was hard to stay composed when he would see some patients spitting his food out, even in tears because they didn’t want to eat a noodle.

But eventually, he started finding satisfaction from the patients. When one of the anorexics cleared her tray for the first time, Hunk nearly cried. He learned the eating habits of the different disorders, and he felt it helped him understand them more.

The people like Pidge with OCD liked order, control. They needed everything to be clean and perfect, similar to how they wanted their lives to be. Hunk could get behind that. At least, the perfect part. It was a little hard to keep his tiny apartment clean with a full time job. It seemed like Shiro didn’t mind what was given to him, but Hunk would notice if a certain food made him stare off or hesitate to grab the tray. He had always wished that one day, Shiro would stay after and tell him stories of the war or military school, but he never did. Keith’s behavior was expected, hard to understand, but expected.

For the most part, it was people like Lance that confused Hunk the most. One day, living is an afterthought, eaten just because it’s in the schedule. Other days, it’s a must, the highlight of the day. He didn’t understand how someone’s opinions could change so quickly, but he knew he had to accept it.

 

Once they get to the Gunderson’s cabin, Pidge gets out of the car quickly to type in a code on a number pad on the wall. The door unlocks, and, with a smile, they run in. Everyone else give each other a look before following suit.

The inside is a stereotypical cabin layout, with plaid couches and a huge fireplace that was probably more expensive that everything Hunk owns combined. There’s a kitchen, looking brand new, and barely used. Hunk wonders how people have enough money to own a place this nice and hardly use it.

“There should be food left here from last summer. I… I didn’t go, because I was scared of all the dirt, but we usually leave it, so…” Pidge starts. They look at the rest of the group for a moment, before turning away. Without words, they walk down the hallway, disappearing into the dark.

“Man, this is giving me the creeps, I feel like some sort of ghost is gonna jump out and snatch me,” Lance complains, collapsing on the couch with a huff. He spreads out his limbs, stretching after all the time in the car. Keith glares at him for a moment, before taking off down in Pidge’s direction, Shiro following suit.

Hunk and Lance look at each other. “What’s with your whole act, dude?” Hunk asks, taking a seat in the couch across from the other. Lance raises an eyebrow, sinking deeper into the couch. “You literally found Keith throwing up food from a trash can, and you’ve barely said anything about it. You had some sort of revelation with your parents, which is a big deal, I might add, and haven’t tried to talk to them since.” Lance looks away, just past Hunk, his eyes plain, dull. Rolling his eyes, Hunk continues, “  
less than a month ago you tried to off yourself, man, doesn’t it… I don’t know… Bother you?”

Lance doesn’t respond at first, then turns his head back to the chef. “For a guy who I just met you sure do like to talk a lot.” His tone is different than before, lower, darker. “Frankly, I’m sick of it. You make slop for a living, it’s not your place to ask me stupid questions. That’s what Allura’s PhD is for.” Hunk’s mouth draws open slightly, taken aback. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t like talking about wanting to die. I’m fine doing it in silence.”

“Lance, come on, you know I just want to help,” Hunk says.

“I don’t want your help, man.” Lance stands up, towering over his friend for the first time. “Look, I’m sorry if I got your hopes up, or whatever. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were making some difference in my life, and you couldn’t wait to go home to your little girlfriend and tell her all about it. That’s on me.” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “If you really want to know, if you’re just _that_ interested… I didn’t bring any of it up, because I don’t care, okay? I don’t care about any of it, and that freaks me out. It’s fucking weird that I don’t give a shit about my parents, or myself, or Keith. None of this means anything to me, okay?” Hunk looks up with wide eyes, feeling small for the first time in his life. “When I decided to do this stupid road trip, I wasn’t myself. All those times I hung out with you, were fake, they mean nothing to me. This is the real me,” Lance gestures to himself. “Nothing. I’m nothing. The faster you accept it the less painful tomorrow will be.” They’re eyes meet for a moment, before Lance turns around, escaping out the patio door.

 

Keith tries to ignore Shiro’s presence in the bedroom as he stares at himself in the mirror. His hair is thinner than he remembers, probably washed out in the shower. The heat isn’t on in the cabin, and he shivers, despite the layered sweatshirts he’d piled on. If he had known that they would have been coming here, he would have grabbed his heated blanket before leaving Altea.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Keith asks, and although he doesn’t face Shiro, he knows that he older man flinched. “Shot someone? More than one person? Killed a whole village?” He rolls up one of his sleeves, and turns around slowly. Shiro’s eyes are wide, staring at Keith in disbelief. “Shiro, whatever made you the way you are, it makes sense. I’m sorry you got hurt, but at least you’re a hero because of it.” He sits down next to Shiro on the bed, trying to ignore how his friend is shaking. “Everything I did, I did to myself. This is my body now,” he mutters, and holds his arm out in front of the other man.

Shiro looks down, eyes landing on the feathery, long hair covering Keith’s pale skin. Keith pulls his arm away, covering it up again. “I have so little body heat now, that I started growing extra hair to keep warm. And it’s so embarrassing, and it’s stupid.” He takes a breath, finally looking at Shiro. “The first time I noticed it was the night before I went to my first treatment center. I escaped my parent’s watch in the middle of the night and went to a fast food place with what little cash I had. I binged on everything in my car and then went behind some gas station to purge it. Halfway through I saw the… fur on my arm and started freaking out. Once I finished throwing up… I wasn’t satisfied.” Keith looks at his face in the mirror, analyzing the purple veins surrounding his eyes. “So… I ate my own vomit, and purged it again.” He looks down at his lap, staring at the fabric of the blanket peeking through the gap between his thighs. Shiro is silent, gaze resting on the wooden floor. “Isn’t that stupid? The worst thing I’ve ever done, and it’s not even significant.”

“We aren’t as different as you think we are,” Shiro responds. He turns to face Keith, ignoring the burning feeling in his head, begging for him to breakdown. “It’s all about numbers, right? My entire life has been numbers. Cordinates. Mile times. Coding.” Shiro rests his hand on Keith’s shoulders. “Calories. Carbs. Whatever it is… I understand. You aren’t alone, so stop pushing us away like you are. This is it, Keith. We both know what comes next.”

Keith tenses. “Zarkon.”

With a frown, Shiro nods. “So don’t ruin whatever time you have left with us. We’re here for you, no matter what. Just like you’re here for us. At Zarkon’s, you’ll get help, but… you’re part of our support system. We need you, Keith.”

“It’s non-stop with you. With all of you,” Keith responds, standing up from his spot. “No matter what I do, you don’t get it. I don’t want your help. I’m not part of whatever you think our group is. The only reason I helped with getting the car is because I wanted to get out of that place. I don’t care if I have to go to Zarkon. I’m clearly not getting better at Altea.” Keith storms out of the room before Shiro can say anything.

 

The air surrounding the cabin makes Lance’s lungs burn. From where he stands, he can see a lake in the distance, and he wonders what it would feel like to engulf himself in the chilled water. He doesn’t get very far into his thought before he hears a door slamming behind him.

“Oh,” is all Keith says. Lance’s mind flashes back to the day before, how the vomit stuck to Keith’s hair. “I didn’t realize anyone was out here.”

“Well don’t worry about it, I know when I’m not wanted,” Lance mutters, turning to go back inside. His heart stops when he feels a cold grip on his wrist.

“Wait,” Keith says, his voice quiet. His grip slowly softens, falling back to his side. “Lance, I…” as he trails off, Lance backs up, his back hitting the railing. They stand in silence for a moment, Keith running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry about the other night. About the candy bar.”

Lance looks down, at his shoes against the wood. “I don’t care about the stupid candy bar,” he mutters. “I…” with a deep breath, he looks back up at Keith. “I thought we had something, I guess. You’re the only tolerable thing about this whole trip.”

Keith rolls his eyes, much to Lance’s surprise. “We can’t have anything,” he says, crossing his arms. “Lance, we’ve known each other for what, a month?” Lance opens his mouth to object, but it caught off as Keith continues. “It’s not even that. Don’t you get it? We met in a fucking mental institution. Whatever you think you know about me, isn’t real. I don’t even know the real me. All I am is whatever this… disorder has made me become. There isn’t anything left of me for you.”

Lance’s eyes widen, and he steps closer to Keith. “You’re wrong. You aren’t just your disorder, you’re-“

“Then what are you?” Keith interrupts, standing taller, his eyes bearing into Lance’s. “Think about it. Can you name even one thing about yourself that you like? That makes you _you?”_

Lance hesitates, narrowing his eyebrows. “You know, I am so sick and tired of you just putting yourself down, why can’t you accept that all of us value you?”

“Just as much as you value yourself, I’m sure.”

“Maybe I was wrong to assume that you would-“

“Who the hell are you guys?” A foreign voice cuts in from further down the patio. Surprised, Keith and Lance both turn to see a taller man, with bright orange hair and glasses just too big for his face. “How the hell did you get into my family cabin? If you don’t leave I’m gonna call the cops.”

Keith and Lance give each other a look, before scrambling for the door. It opens before they can reach the handle, Pidge leaning out. “What’s with all the arguing?” They complain, turning their head to see the new figure. They gasp, “Matt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment pls i love attention


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but busy

The arrival of Pidge’s brother caused the rest of the group to be collected into the living room, all left staring at each other in silence. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and Shiro ignored every time Keith’s knee bumped his, but it was better than the screaming match going on in one of the rooms down the hall.

“I can’t believe how stupid you were, Pidge. I mean, not only could that chef guy sue you, but you could get kicked out of Altea,” Matt yells, pacing back and forth in front of his sibling. “There’s no other option after that. What were you thinking?”

“Yelling at me isn’t going to change where we are, Matt,” Pidge argues. “Besides, if I get kicked out of Altea I can just go to that place Dad’s colleague recommended.”

“In _England_ Pidge! Are you insane? That’s even further away than Altea. I would never be able to see you!”

“Why does that matter? It’s not like you came to see me anyway! The entire year and a half I was there, you didn’t visit once. Yet here I am, after driving across the country just to go to your stupid graduation. I don’t even understand why I did this in the first place.” Pidge crosses their arms and looks away.

Matt groans and sits on the bed. “Well, obviously something made you do this. No one just… escapes from a psyche ward for no reason, Pidge.”

“It’s not just some psyche ward, Matt. You treat it like I’m sitting in some room made of pillows with a straight jacket on. You act like I’m just some insane person who should be locked up.” Pidge turns back around. “As soon as I started getting bad, you casted me out. How do you think that made me feel?”

It’s silent in the room as Matt stares at his sibling with bewilderment. “Katie, I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t want you around anymore. It’s just… one moment, we’re going with Dad on hikes to collect data, and the next moment, you’re locked up in your room polishing everything for three hours. You would spend hours just writing out your homework, and you stopped blasting music from your room and walking the dogs. If your food wasn’t prepared right you would have a panic attack, and the stuff you would say to Mom and Dad… You weren’t _you_!”

Pidge stares at their brother, eyes wide, wet. “Matt, I…” With a deep breath, they slowly walk forward. “I’m sorry. I’m getting better. Please, don’t get angry, Matt. I just… I’m getting better.” With a cry, they wrap their arms around their older brother.

Hesitantly, Matt let’s his arms wrap around his sibling. “You haven’t hugged me in almost three years, Pidge. I could never be mad at you.”

 

The Holt siblings walk out, being welcomed by an uncomfortable silence. Matt gives Pidge a look of confusion before looking around the room. “Okay… Everyone,” he starts. “Um… I guess you can stay here until tomorrow, but after that you’re going back to the facility. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to notify Allura and Coran of where you are. I mean, realistically, I’m sure all of you are… not used to this. Whatever, this, is. Um… there’s bedrooms, there’s food in the fridge. Just… don’t do anything more drastic than you already have.” He looks at the group for a moment, before turning around and heading back down the hallway. Pidge smiles before waving and turning around, following their brother.

There’s another moment of silence before anyone moves. “I’m going to bed,” Shiro says, slowly getting up from his spot on the couch. Before he leaves, he glances at Keith, eyebrows narrowed. He sighs, and takes off down the hallway, slamming a door behind him. Lance watches as Keith’s gaze follows him, but he doesn’t bother to follow him.

Hunk looks between the two for a minute, a somber look on his face. “I need to call Shay, so…” With a small smile, he shrugs and takes off, disappearing down the hallway.

Lance looks at Keith, taking in how he’s curled up against the armchair of the couch. It infatuates him how one man can take up so little space. His sharp wrists curl against his knobby knees, buried in the sweatpants he has to pull up constantly.

“How do you do it?” Lance asks, breaking the silence he finds himself far too comfortable in.

Keith doesn’t look up; he just keeps his weak gaze fixated on the wood panels of the floor. “Do what?” He responds, voice soft, the softest Lance has heard it since meeting him.

“Do… whatever this is, for so long? I mean, depression naps, I can handle. Whatever self-doubt that I’ve always had, was manageable. But the way I feel about myself? The constant voice in my head that tells me that I’m not good enough, that reminds me of every goddamn bad thing I’ve done, that tells me to just die, it’s too much. There’s a reason I tried to off myself. You’ve been at this for years, how the fuck have you made it this long?” Lance keeps his eyes on Keith, waiting for the other patient to look at him. To do anything except stare into space, at least.

Keith takes a deep breath, and averts his gaze to the coffee table instead of the floor. “I can’t remember. Before I stopped eating, I had a future. I had goals. I used to have a schedule and an eating plan that was supposed to get me to the Olympics. My picture was all over my parents’ house, it was even in the local paper a few times for setting town records. Everything was so… _big._ Big races. The big day. Every weekend. Every morning. Once I beat a record, my reward was a new plan to beat the new one. I don’t remember when it happened, but I slowly started caring more about running to feel small than running to be fast. Eating less… to be less. And I still haven’t reached what I want. The only thing keeping me around is my desire to feel small, and I won’t stop until I am.”

The way the moonlight reflects off of the darkness in Lance’s eyes reminds Keith of his morning runs before his life went to shit. He hadn’t realized that while he was talking he had raised his head and looked over at Lance. He also hadn’t noticed that they had both leaned forward, the space on the couch between them growing smaller. Keith stops himself from leaning any further forward.

“But you’re already so small,” Lance whispers. He feels Keith’s fingertips against his own, a cold reminder that this is real and he’s not laying on the floor of his dorm room. “Not just in how you look… But to be fair you are the skinniest person I’ve ever met. I doubt you’ve noticed this, but you already make yourself the smallest person in the room. Every time anyone tries to confront you, you push them away. I’m surprised you even kept Shiro and Pidge around for this long.”

“Please, Shiro only sees me as someone worse than himself so he can feel better. And Pidge just likes that we both have to have our food a certain way. I know they care about me, but we don’t have a future. Not like…” Keith trails off, but doesn’t look away from Lance.

“Not like…” Lance repeats. He slowly inches his hand over Keith’s. “Me?”

“I… Well…” Keith takes another breath, but doesn’t pull his hand away. “You just… Get me more than they do. I mean, it’s not like you’re the only other person who gets me. I could walk into just about any clinic and probably find someone who feels the same way. But they aren’t here.”

“I’m here, Keith.” Lance mutters, squeezing his hand. “And I… I know it’s asking a lot, but I want you to be there for me. I’m tired of feeling alone, Keith.”

“Lance,” Keith rests his other hand on Lance’s neck, cradling it in his palm. “Whatever happens between us won’t make you whole again. This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lance responds, bringing his own open hand up to cup Keith’s. “But that doesn’t mean that for one night I can’t feel like it does.” When they’re lips touch, it doesn’t feel special. It’s not different from any other kiss Lance has ever had, but it makes the voice in his head quiet, and that’s all he needs.

 

Shiro doesn’t remember a time he ever slept past seven am, and that morning wasn’t an exception. However, he doesn’t miss running a 5K every morning, or doing 200 push-ups twice a week. He didn’t always take pills three times a day, but it had been part of his routine ever since he woke up without an arm. He doesn’t remember it, but his father told him that on the way back from wherever he was, he repeated non-stop for twelve hours something about running. Over and over, he shouldn’t have ran.

But now he’s not so sure. Here he was, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, somewhere he doesn’t know. For the first time, he doesn’t have a plan. For the first time, he’s reached a destination, done something he meant to do, but doesn’t feel satisfied.

After he wakes up, he finds one of the bathrooms, eager to shower, to cleanse himself of every car ride and the hotel. First, he takes his shirt off, purposely not looking in the mirror. Every scar brought back a new memory. He never forgot how he got one. The first one he can recall is on his shoulder blade, from his first year of military school. He overestimated the distance of his back from the barbed wire in a training course, and got caught.

 _“It’s not a big deal, Shirogane,”_ his officer told him. _“Happens all the time.”_ But at that point, Shiro didn’t know that it would be the first of many. Hundreds of scars, all with their own stories. He tries to forget them. He wants to. That’s what his medication is for.

He closes his eyes under the water, the steam forming around him just right. It relaxes all his muscles, making his mind go blank. Eyes closed, he reaches for the shampoo on the shelf, but ends up knocking it over, taking down a few more things in the process. With a groan, Shiro bends over to pick them up, his finger landing straight on a razor.

“Shit,” he gasps, opening his eyes in time to see the blood from the small cut swirl down the drain. The blood, his blood, starts pumping in his chest. “Shit, shit,” he mutters, throwing open the curtain and grabbing a towel. “Shit, fuck,” the stinging in his finger drags him back down to reality. Stumbling, he steps over the tub and out of the shower. “Fuck,” he exclaims again.

“Wow, Takashi, who knew you had the mouth of a sailor,” Sven’s voice echoes in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i adore comments. tell me what u think!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay new chapter

The smell of fresh cooked bacon in the morning is what drags Matt out of bed so early. It’s so good, he nearly forgets that he’s getting his college degree that day. He walks in on Hunk whistling while cracking an egg into a large pan.

“Morning,” Hunk says, giving Matt a smile before looking back to the stove. “Sleep well?”

Hesitantly, Matt leans on the counter, “Yeah. Thanks.” Hunk nods, not bothering to say anything else. Matt watches as the eggs sizzle on the stovetop, turning white against the heat. “So…” He starts again. “What’s… up with you? How are you holding up?”

Hunk throws in some pepper before responding. “Look, I don’t know if Pidge told you, but I’m not one of Allura’s patients. I’m the facility’s chef and they stole my car after knocking me out.”

Matt straightens out, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “And you just went with them all this way? You didn’t think of stopping them?”

With a sigh, Hunk starts flipping the eggs, “At first, it was all I wanted to do. But the longer it went on, the more I realized that in a way, it was working for them.” He turns around after turning the burner off. “I mean, clearly they all still need help, but… Pidge went from scrubbing down the car to sleeping in a rundown hotel room. Lance had an honest phone call with his parents that opened them up to an actual healing process. Shiro went without a routine and Keith… well, he’s found something, I guess. Anyway, I figured I’m fired anyway, I might as well make sure they get here okay.”

Before Matt can respond, he’s interrupted by a scream from down the hall. “Pidge?” He yells, his feet carrying him in the direction before he actually processes which room the noise came from.

“What happened?” Hunk asks from behind him, peering into the room.

In front of them, Pidge is leaning into one of the bathrooms, their eyes wide. They stand with their hands out in front of them, stained in blood. “Pidge!” Matt exclaims, running forward and taking his sibling into his hands. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“It’s Shiro,” They point into the bathroom, hands shaking.

Worried, Hunk rushes forward and into the doorway of the bathroom. In front of him, Shiro sits on the floor, broken glass shattered around him. He’s mumbling, seemingly at no one. “What kind of soldier leaves his partner behind? You just ran away, you left me to die.”

“Shiro?” Hunk asks, voice soft. Shiro just continues, hands clenching and unclenching the glass shards in his hands. The trail of blood leads up to the mirror above the sink, where there’s a web of cracks in the broken mirror. Hunk looks him over, only noticing small chunks of glass littering his knuckles, blood smearing over his clothing. When he first got hired at Altea, he was taught how to deal with troubled patients in case something happened in the kitchen. “Shiro, it’s me, Hunk. What happened?”

He doesn’t receive a response. Instead, Shiro continues to stare at the ground. As Hunk opens his mouth to ask again, Shiro starts talking. “He left me to die, that’s what happened. He’s a liar, he’s not a hero. He’s a liar. He’s a liar. He’s a liar,” He keeps repeating himself, eyes darting from the floor to the wall.

“Okay…” Hunk looks behind him, where Matt is talking to Pidge, trying to calm them down. “We need to get something to calm him down since he hasn’t taken his medication in a few days. Do you have melatonin or something?”

Matt looks at Shiro, then back to Hunk. “Uh… I have a few edibles in my bag.”

Hunk raises his eyebrows. “Oh… Well… I guess that could work.”

 

Keith thought the screaming on the other side of the wall was part of his nightmare. It was one he’d had time and time again. He’s running along the trail he’d been on a hundred times before, the sun rising over the landscape just to his right. His chest is burning as usual, but a good burning this time, not the “he hasn’t eaten in days” burn. Just as he gets over the hill, he stumbles on a rock, and falls down over the trail. His body rolls down the hill, slamming against the sharp edges of the rocky terrain. But it doesn’t stop. He never stops falling, Eventually, the mountain turns to darkness, and he’s just diving into a never-ending pit.

“What the hell is that?” Lance groans from next to him. Keith’s mind races back to the night before. He recalls making out with Lance on the couch, before moving to the bedroom. Lance’s hands felt warm running up and down his body, his fingers digging into the hills and valleys of his ribcage. He remembers Lance whispering Keith’s name into his ear before falling asleep next to him.

“I don’t know,” Keith responds. During the night they had drifted apart, Keith taking all the blankets to make up for his complete lack of body heat.

“Whatever…” Lance sighs, laying his head back down into the pillow. There’s more yelling, this time a deeper voice. Keith and Lance look at each other once more before getting up. As Lance makes the bed, Keith analyses the new red and purple marks scattered across his skin. The last time he had let someone touch him that intimately had been when he lost his virginity to one of the counselors at track camp his sophomore year. He tries his hardest not to think about how Lance’s hands searched his hideous body.

They walk together toward the sounds, located in a room further down the hall. The scene is surprising to say the least. Pidge is frantically wiping everything down with disinfectant wipes, seemingly rubbing the polish right off a wooden dresser. Shiro’s on the bed, being held down by Hunk, who’s struggling to keep down the artificial arm that’s flailing in the air. Matt’s yelling something about his weak muscles, a brownie in his hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lance yells, his voice joining the mix

Hunk looks up in surprise, sweat on his brow. “It’s a lot to explain, man! Can you just help us get this thing down Shiro’s throat?” He gestures to the brownie Matt’s struggling to keep hold of. Lance opens his mouth to protest, but Hunk cuts him off. “Like, now, dude!”

Hesitantly, Lance walks around the bed and helps Hunk hold down Shiro’s metal arm while Keith takes the brownie from Matt’s hand. Shiro’s saying something, over and over, about lying. Keith knows he’s much stronger than he’s letting on, and that if he really wanted to he could break out of their grasp and get out of the bed. He makes eye contact with Shiro, and it feels out of body, as if Shiro wants to say something else but can’t. Gently, Keith gets on the bed and breaks apart the brownie before placing a piece in Shiro’s mouth. After a moment, he swallows it, slowly, but doesn’t stop struggling. Keith continues the process until the rest of the brownie is gone, and by the last bite, Shiro’s body has relaxed. Hunk sighs with relief, his body visibly relaxing. He looks at Matt and then at the door, a worried look in his eyes.

“Well… We’ll, uh… be right back. Why don’t you guys watch Shiro for a minute?” Hunk says, before he and Matt leave the room together.

Pidge stops scrubbing, looking over their shoulder at Keith and Lance. “This isn’t exactly how I expected my morning to go,” they say.

Keith looks at Shiro, who’s sitting himself up. He sighs, his face visibly becoming less tense. “At the start of this… road trip, I was set on making it here quick, with the single idea of reuniting Pidge with their brother. It was noble. I was making sure that you all stayed safe, like I was always taught to do. But… To be honest, I haven’t been ready for this since my discharge. I’m not fit to try to lead you guys. I can’t even be trusted to be alone.”

“It’s not your fault, Shiro.” Keith responds, and Lance suddenly feels like he’s been hit by a bus. He had forgotten for a moment that the entire trip was his fault, and now hearing it from Keith’s mouth reminded him how worthless he was.

“Besides, recovery isn’t all up hill. It has lows and highs,” Pidge continues. “At least, that’s what Allura told me when I locked myself in the closet after seeing an ant in my room.”

Shiro nods while wrapping himself up in the sheets, silent again. After glancing at Lance and Keith, grimacing at the hickeys, Pidge returns to wiping the room. Keith turns to look at Lance, the look in his eyes uncertain, but longing. Lance wants so badly to reach out to him, told hold him again. Their night together was too much, he was in over his head. How could he have let himself have Keith, knowing he would get too attached?

“I’ve decided that once we get back to Altea, I’m requesting to be sent to Zarkon’s,” Keith announces, breaking the silence. The three look at him in shock, at a loss for words. “Before you try to convince me, I’m not changing my mind. It’s clear to me that Allura’s soul searching game night therapy isn’t working. Clearly, no therapy I’ve ever been through has worked. I’ve been at this for years and still managed to binge on fucking dumpster food.”

“Keith, you can’t just quit because you relapsed,” Pidge cuts in. “It happens to all of us.”

“You can’t relapse if you never tried to get better in the first place. Every day at Altea I threw food down my pants or mushed it up so it looked like I ate more. I didn’t listen to Allura in my private sessions and worked out as much as I could when no one was looking. At Zarkon’s I’ll be put on a feeding tube and drugged out of my mind, I won’t be able to fight back. The voices in my head will finally go away and maybe I can finally get better. I’m so sick of this disorder. If Zarkon’s doesn’t work… I’ll die.”

And it was Lance’s fault. All of them dove deeper into their disorders because Lance couldn’t control himself. He didn’t want to be himself anymore, not if it meant living with the guilt. “Keith, wait,” he stutters, everyone’s attention turning to him. “I can make it better,” he says.

“Lance, you can’t change my mind, I’m going-“

“Let’s make a fort,” Lance exclaims, grabbing one of the blankets surrounding Shiro. “We can make a blanket fort, just like I did when I was a kid. And all our problems will go away and we can live there forever.” He runs over to the window, opening it just enough to shut the fabric in it. “It’ll be so much fun. Come on, Keith, help me tie this to the bedframe. Didn’t you like making forts when you were a kid?” Lance excited hands the corner of the blanket to Keith, who gives him a confused look.

Keith looks to Shiro for help, but instead he’s laughing. “Sounds fun,” he says, grabbing one of the other blankets. He’s laughing to himself quietly, his body slow.

“Looks like Shiro has a fast digestive system,” Pidge says.

 

“They said they’re just pulling up,” Hunk says, following Matt to the front door. “Thank God this fiasco is finally over. Now I can get fired properly.”

“Well you deserve it,” Matt responds. “I’m glad I reconciled with Katie, but I wish it had been on different terms. Not to mention we had to force feed a veteran a pot brownie, and who knows what the other two did in my parent’s bed last night. I’m supposed to be excited, man, I’m graduating college tonight.”

Before Hunk can retaliate, he hears a loud knock on the door. Hesitantly, he opens it, revealing a very angry Allura, her arms tensed at her sides. “We have been following you for days,” She starts, stepping into the cabin. Hunk and Matt back up, suddenly feeling smaller than before. “Coran and I have pulled over at every rest stop, every diner, motel, and gas station we could find asking if you had been seen. And just when I was about to give up and call the police to track you down, a housekeeper tells me that she saw Keith eating food from a dumpster. Then, I get a call from Pidge’s older brother telling me that they’re at some cabin, acting like exactly what they are. Mental patients.”

She walks further into the room, her heels echoing against the wooden floor. “Keith is on a meal plan catered toward replenishing his malnourished body’s health. He has heart problems and much longer with his extreme behavior can make his heart fail and he will die. Pidge can get so worked up over the cleanliness and organization of thing around them that they’re blood pressure increases and could possibly have a string of panic attacks, making their breathing short. Shiro is on three different medications to help stop his nightmares and hallucinations. Without getting the proper help he needs, he turns outright violent. Lance is prone to extreme suicidal episodes where he believes that nothing can stop him from taking his own life. Does this sound familiar to you, Mr. Garrett?” Allura crosses her arms, staring the two boys down. “How about you, Mr. Gunderson. I know that I’m famous for my style of treatment, and that games, and trips, and activities are part of my program. But I would never go so far as to let some of my most troubled patients travel across the country on their own, especially without proper supervision.”

Hunk looks down, staring at Allura’s tapping shoe. “I’m sorry, I know it was wrong-“

“I know you do. Before I properly fire you, we’re sitting down so you can tell me exactly what happened so I don’t have to try to squeeze it out of the others. Then, I will decide the consequences.” She sits down on the couch, then gestures to the seat across from her. “Matthew, would you be so kind as to make Coran and I some tea, I am absolutely parched.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love comments


	10. Chapter 10

As Hunk began explaining what had happened, trying his best to ignore Allura’s angry facial expressions, he tried to make it seem like a good experience. “I mean, to be fair, Pidge has done stuff that I never imagined they could do. And Shiro opened up to us, and Lance and Keith have built-“

“Stop talking,” Allura snaps, before taking a sip of her tea. “Just because you feel connected to these patients and feel like they made some progress, doesn’t mean that they’re cured. I’ve spent a third of my life studying psychology to get my practice. One road trip will not fix their problems. Any longer, and they would have been worse. Right now, my first priority is evaluating the damage that has been done. Please, show me where my patients are.”

Hunk was hoping he would open the door to find the group of friends sitting quietly, or talking, or at least acting normally. What he didn’t expect was to reveal Lance running around the room, muttering something under his breath. He’s making circles around the room, even jumping on the bed every few rounds. Shiro lays against Pidge’s shoulder, their backs against the wall, softly laughing at the situation. Keith’s nowhere to be found, although Hunk can hear his name under Lance’s breath.

“Well, they sure do look cured,” Allura mutters. Hunk shrinks next to her. After she straightens out her clothes, Allura takes a step in. “Mr. McClain,” she says, stern. Lance doesn’t respond, he just continues his charade. “Mr. McClain, please, get ahold of yourself. Lance. Lance!”

Lance stops, frozen, in the middle of jumping on the bed, one leg still on the ground. He turns his head to look at Allura, a small smile on his face. “Allura, oh, I’m so glad to see you,” His movements are frantic, but have a heavy feel to them. “We’re making a blanket fort; do you want to see it? You should help.”

Allura looks at Hunk with narrowed eyebrows, before gently stepping forward. “Lance, perhaps now isn’t the time for a blanket fort. Why don’t you come with us?”

“Why? It’s so fun in here,” Lance pleads, backing up. “If we hide in the fort, then everything that makes us sad will go away. Allura, let’s go there,” He reaches forward, putting a hand out. When she doesn’t take it, he steps closer. “Don’t you want to come with me?”

Hesitantly, Allura grabs Lance’s hand. “Lance, why don’t you come with me?”

Whatever excitement that was on Lance’s face falls, and it seems that even the color in his complexion fades. “No, I want to play in my blanket fort. Why don’t you want to play with me?”

“Lance, now isn’t the time. Listen to me, you aren’t in trouble. I just want to help you. You need to calm down, and come with me, okay?” Allura tries to gently pull Lance toward her, but he pulls away.

“No, I don’t want to. What the hell is wrong with you people? You’re always so serious. You make everything about getting better. All the time. Why can’t I just have some fun with my friends? Why can’t you be my friend? Or Keith?”

Allura tenses, but keeps her facial expression soft. “Lance, I promise you, that I will play with you. If you can tell me where Keith is. After all, everyone should play together, right?”

Lance nods, but backs up until he’s sitting on the bed. “Yeah, I really want Keith to be here too. He didn’t want to make the fort with me. He left like I knew he would.”

“Okay,” Allura says, then takes a seat next to Lance. “Where did he go, exactly?”

Lance sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I wish I knew. I wish he would tell me more. I want Keith to want me as much as I want him. But he can’t because this is all my fault.”

Allura looks at Hunk and Coran in the doorway, giving them a raised eyebrow. With a shrug, Hunk backs up, out of sight. “Lance, whatever happened with Keith can be sorted out. But first, we’ll need to know what happened.”

“Last night I wanted to have sex with him but he said he couldn’t and now nothing’s gonna work out and it’s all my fault. Everything’s my fault. Shiro had a flashback or something so Hunk gave him pot and now that you’re here Pidge can’t watch their brother graduate and-“

“Keith ran away,” Pidge cuts in. Lance continues to mutter under his breath, but Allura turns her attention to Pidge. “He knew that once you got here he’d be sent to another facility. He said he wanted to get in one last run before he was locked away. Something about feeling free. I tried to stop him, but Lance wouldn’t stop rearranging the blankets and Shiro wouldn’t let go of me.”

“There’s a path that runs around this whole area. If he was running, he’d be somewhere along there. Otherwise it’s just a forest, you can’t really run through it.” Matt says. “It’s off season, so the park rangers might not be in. Technically, all the cabins are supposed to be empty.”

“No need. With Keith’s condition he couldn’t have gotten far. Coran and I will go look for him while you and Hunk watch these three. Don’t let them do anything rash. Once we return, they will be coming with us to the airport and we’ll fly back. But… Pidge, I expect you back in a few days. Spend time with your family.” With that, Pidge gets up and runs to Allura, hugging her from the side.

“I want to help find Keith,” Lance says, standing up.

Coran shakes his head, “Lance, you’ve already caused quite the-“

“I know. This is my fault, and if anything bad happens to him it’ll be on my conscious. Please, let me make this right.” Allura opens her mouth to protest, but decides against it. Up until this point, she was livid. But she had never imagined Pidge hugging her. Ever. Let alone at this point in their treatment. She originally was planning to punish Lance and kick him out of her practice, but at that moment she realized that she didn’t need to. He was punishing himself enough, and if something were to happen to Keith, she’s not sure she could talk Lance down.

“Fine. But you won’t be out of my sight.” Allura says. She gives one last look at Shiro, who’s fallen asleep, before making her way out of the room.

 

Once Allura, Coran, and Lance are gone, Hunk finally relaxes and sits down on the couch. He basks in the silence for a few minutes, feeling his shoulders loosen up. It’s the calmest he’s ever felt before getting fired. With a sigh, he pulls out his phone and dials Shay. To Hunk’s relief, she picks up just before the last ring.

“You are dead to me,” She says. He can feel her anger radiating through the phone. “Do you know how many of your stupid patients have yelled at me because they didn’t like the food?”

“I know, I’m sorry. Please, I’ll make it up to you when I get back. I’ll be back tomorrow Shay, please. Allura’s fixing everything. We just have to find Keith…”

 

Lance doesn’t think he’s felt worse. It doesn’t matter how many times people tell him it’s not his fault. If he hadn’t been sick in the first place, he wouldn’t have even met Keith and he wouldn’t have hit Hunk with that frying pan and he wouldn’t have seen a body. He sees a body, against a tree in front of him. It takes a few seconds for Lance to realize it’s Keith.

“Oh God, dude, are you okay?” Lance yells, running toward him. He’s slouched against the bark, his chest pumping. “Keith? Keith, stay with me.” Keith turns his head to face Lance, sweat dripping from his brow. He doesn’t say anything, but the darkness surrounding Keith’s pupils pulls him in like a vortex and he can’t get out. The last thing he sees before his screaming takes over his body is Keith’s head dropping to face the ground.

 

When the lights above Lance come into focus, they burn into his soul and for a second he thinks he’s in heaven. Allura sits in the corner of the room, her arms crossed. “What happened?” He asks, focusing on the white ceiling.

“Keith had a mild heart attack,” Allura says, her voice monotone. “He shouldn’t have been running. Simple as that. He’s alive. His parents are on their way here. Lance I don’t know what to say. I welcomed you into my clinic, wanting to help you, and-“

“I’m sorry. I know. Look… I can’t take back what I did. I can’t beg you to take me back. I…”

“You wanted a way out, didn’t you?” Allura “All of this. As soon as you got in that car, you could have done anything. At any time, you could have taken your own life and gotten out. But you didn’t.”

Lance shrugs, and relaxes into the bed. “I wanted to. I feel like shit for causing all this.”

“Look. Your parents are on their way here to pick you up. Altea is no longer an option for you. I’m going to give them all my referrals and do all in my power to relocate you as soon as possible.”

“I’m okay with that,” Lance says. “I’m okay with anything. As long as this is over.”

 

_One year later._

Lance feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin. His session that morning went well, better than usual. His therapist reassured him that the meetup will be fine. They had been talking on the phone for two months. It had taken six months for Lance to be promoted to outpatient, shorter than expected. He wasn’t going back to school, and he still lived with his parents, but he was still there. Keith still lived at Zarkon’s, although he was allowed phone privileges and weekly outings.

The coffee shop they agreed to meet at was a further drive for Lance, but it was worth the drive. The night before, he had facetimed Shiro, who had recommended it. As far as Lance knew, Altea was all the same without them, and word of the legendary escape crew spread. Coran installed cameras and alarms on the doors, and Hunk found solace as a chef in a Hotel.

It’s ten minutes after their planned time when Lance hears the bell on the door ring. Keith’s gaze immediately falls to Lance. Lance notices the weight gain, how the color came back to his skin. It makes his chest swell with warmth.

“Hey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading and all your wonderful comments!!!! sorry it's so rushed, im a double major.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! my first voltron fic, im hoping it'll be good. 
> 
> i adore when people leave comments. it lifts my heart. and my fingers to continue the story.


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